Preface
Tony Stark's SonPosted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/24776344.
Rating:
Not Rated
Archive Warning:
Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category:
M/M
Fandom:
Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Relationship:
Peter Parker/Harry Potter
Character:
Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, Nick Fury, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Bruce Banner
Additional Tags:
Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Slow Burn, Tony Stark's Son, Crossover, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Collections:
Marvel Verse FF,
Harry_PotterxMarvel_xSC,
Harry Potter Fanfic Must Reads,
Marvel Fanfic Must Reads
Stats:
Published: 2020-06-17 Updated: 2021-04-05 Chapters: 6/? Words: 31632
Tony Stark's Son
by LordSalazarWrites (Lexialexus)
Summary
Sirius Black was more than the not-so-secret-keeper of Lilly and James Potter. He was a friend. He was a confidant. And, well, this may seem ironic but he was, in fact, a secret keeper. He had kept Lily Potter's biggest secret from even his best friend.
But not, well, now things were different. Harry Potter was in grave danger in England and even Dumbledore couldn't keep him safe, which the headmaster had proven when he had allowed Harry Potter to be dragged away to resurrect the Dark Lord.
So yeah, sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.
But sending Harry Potter to New York City to meet his actual father? Might be a little bonkers.
Notes
So this story was born because I read one story on AO3 about how Harry Potter was Tony Stark's son and I couldn't get it out of my head. You know when you get bit by a mosquito and you can't help but itch at the scratch even though it could get infected? Well, that's what this story did to my brain. No, I did not steal the story ideas. In fact, I took a complete turn from the author's idea so don't @ me okay? I was inspired but I would never steal. If this story has any similarities to another fanfiction other than the whole, ya know, Tony Stark's son thing, it is coincidental.
Your welcome for the visual! I hope you enjoy it and PLEASE SEND ME LINKS TO MORE HARRY POTTER IS TONY'S KID FICS! I need them all in my life.
In The Beginning
Sirius had always been a worrier. It was a trait of his that Lupin had pointed out time and time again throughout their lives. First, it was fretting over his soulmate to the point of breaking wizarding law, which had turned out pretty well, then worrying over his inability to stay strong to the point of convincing his best friend to pick a new Secret Keeper, which hadn't turned out too well, and finally, now, it was Harry Potter.
He knew the boy could take care of himself. He knew that well enough, but with the resurrection of Voldemort not two feet in front of the boy, it was bound to make him worry. Harry was not safe in Hogwarts; If he wasn't safe in Hogwarts where was he safe; Dumbledore had assured him he was safe with the Dursleys, but hadn't he also assured him he was safe at Hogwarts; where had that gotten them all? It was a matter to bite his fingernails over, which, as it would seem, had already been chewed down to the skin of his fingers.
Lupin had met up with Sirius when summer began, and, since then, the two had been making arrangements to start up The Order of the Pheonix once again. Things had been smooth sailing all summer. It seemed this was going to be a reality in less than a month. But that didn't stop Sirius's worrying. Friends of Harry -- Ron and Hermoine -- pushed him to bring the boy here as soon as possible. Could he, though? Could he force himself to bring his godson into such a dangerous world? It seemed as if he would be hurt in the process. Sirius did not want the boy to be hurt at all. Period.
"Sirius, darling, he'll be alright." Had become Lupin's mantra for the season, it seemed. Sirius felt the press of his soulmate's lips, heard the sigh of worry, and saw the flash of skin as the werewolf took his seat in front of him. Lupin didn't look much better than he had when the two had started traveling together. Years of malnutrition and poor care of their bodies from both of them had left their marks. Sirius was sure he was half insane by now. Lupin hadn't been eating well even during their times at Hogwarts and had only gotten worse following Sirius's imprisonment. Time had caught up with them.
"How can you promise that?" Sirius whispers to his partner. Set between them was a table decorated with flowers, teapots, and empty plates Sirius had yet moved to clean in the kitchen. As the moon was high in the sky, casting a soft glow through the window that framed Lupin's face, he knew it was about time he got to cleaning. The children had long since gone to bed and any adult in the home was sitting in the living room discussing old war stories while they sipped on fresher tea. Sirius couldn't bring himself to sit amongst them, not now, not when his godson was in the middle of this violent uprising of war. "How can you promise that he'll make it through this? You can't promise me that Lupin. It's impossible."
"Sirius, it'll be okay." Lupin was holding onto Sirius's arm. The warmth of a soulmate's touch lights up his mind, calms it, and almost brings a smile to the overwhelmed man's face. Nothing could be that bad if Lupin was right here. Yes, the two of them were soulmates and had known this for a very long time. As most do, Sirius and Lupin had become aware of their bond the second their eyes had met following Sirius's birthday. Sirius, ever the charmer, had thrown out a random pick up line. Lupin had replied, and the rest had been history. James had brought the two together when the time came, his bright smile and shining soul acting like a magnet even before the two had spoken. Then, of course, they had come together and, since then, the two had been inseparable. More inseparable than they had been before, even. Until Azkaban, that is. Their bond had fallen apart for those torturous years and Sirius had worried it would never recover. Harry, like his father, had brought the two wandering souls back together. Neither of them could be any happier. Their story had been a long and dark one.
"You're right." Sirius finally lets himself think of the impossible. Of course, the thought had crossed his mind before. James and Lily would have liked Harry to be safe above anything else. If that was the way he had to do it, well, they wouldn't hate him for the effort. "Because we are going to make sure it turns out okay."
Sirius shares a long look with his soulmate before standing from the old wooden chair. The chair squeaked as he stood from it. In the empty house, it echoed between every wall. Lupin follows Sirius as he walks towards the one window of the room. Looking out, Sirius could see muggles struggling through the warm evening night. All of them seemed relaxed in their late-night strolls. Not a single one of them was as fretful as the order was. How he wished he could join then tonight. How he wished he didn't have to betray his best friend for the second time. Even as he knew it would save Harry Potter, he felt the guilt of it eat away at his heart. This would not be easy for anyone involved.
"I know what we have to do." Sirius finally broke the moments of silence. When he turns to give Lupin his grave desperate look, he found his soulmate already looking at him with a worried gaze. Sirius hoped Lupin would back him up as he always had. Said man grips his arms, squeezing them as if to say he had forgiven whatever was unsaid. Somehow, this gave Sirius Black the courage to completely dishonor his best friend's name. "Harry Potter is going to New York City."
--
Dear Harry,
There has been a change of plans. We will be there to collect you on the third Thursday of June. Be ready for a long trip, and don't pack too heavy. The only thing you will need is Hedwig and your broom.
Sirius
Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, monster-killing extraordinaire, Voldemort-facing mastermind, best seeker in Hogwarts history, was worried. His worry, as one would guess, stemmed from the now crumpled note held in his hand. Sirius had written a lot of odd notes to him, most very vague and a little on the, well, insane side, but none quite as odd as this one. A change of plans? Harry hadn't even known of any plans that involved him, other than to completely throw him under the bus and leave him alone in the middle of his uncle's rage-induced, well, rage. And collecting him tonight? It was the middle of the summer, how would they get here? They wouldn't use muggle transport. Harry laughed at the image of his godfather riding on a subway. Arthur Weasley would lose his mind in fascination, but his godfather would lose it for other reasons. His broom? They couldn't fly in plain sight. Muggles were all around, how could they hide two wizards on brooms?
Hedwig had arrived with the note a little after breakfast. Harry had left his boring room to make breakfast for his loud-mouthed family and returned to a chirping owl sitting on his windowsill. This was always a nice occasion, but the note attached to her had left things to be desired. Sirius never answered that quickly and almost never used Hedwig to do it. The contents weren't much more placating than anything had been this summer. Harry had stuffed the note in his pocket when his uncle called out his name from the kitchen, crumpling it in his efforts. He had done what he did on a normal day for the rest of the time; sat outside and listened to the news, sat inside and ate in silence away from his cousin, snuck bites of stale cake from under the floorboards, amongst other things.
Finally, after the Dursley's had eaten dinner -- minus Dudley, who was off bullying some kid or another -- Harry had the chance to slip away. So, here he sat on an old rusty swing with little more than a crumpled note and his useless wand. Sirius would wait until it was far later in the night than now, yet the moment of truth was whirling closer and closer. Harry would know what was up soon enough.
But did it have to be so soon? Yes, Sirius had not written this note and expected it to arrive on the very same day he would pull his plan, but had he not even thought of the time it would take for the not to reach Harry? He could have pushed the date back a little to give Harry some form of warning. Of course, nothing was ever simple when Harry Potter was involved. Things would turn out in the end, they always did, and Harry would have to sit back and let things take their course.
His excitement about being away from the Dursleys for even a small amount of time had kicked in. After the initial panic of 'oh shit, that's tonight!'. He would be free of them. Sirius would free him of whatever they had in store. It was a question of where he was headed. At this point, it didn't matter much. Sirius would most likely be with Lupin, as the two were soulmates, and the Weasley's would take the refugees in as their own with little persuasion. It was safe to say Harry would be flying to the burrow when the time finally came. Not that he minded too much. Hermoine and Ron were there and, even if they had gotten in a lot of fights and the two of them had left Harry out of a lot this summer, they understood him better than anyone had ever cared to understand him. In a world of shifting seas and dark marks, his friends were his rocks.
Harry missed them desperately. Their eyes were never for him, however, as they had found out their soulmate status the second Hermoine had turned fourteen. That week had been a weird one for them all. The pressure of soulmates had been stacked on top of the Triwizard tournament and Hermoine's date with Krum. For once, it was Hermoine and Ron fighting instead of Harry and Ron going at it. At some point, the tension had fallen away and the three had come together closer than before. Harry was left out of a little more, but, well, that couldn't be helped. His marks had popped up before the school year even started, giving him more than enough time to deduce that his other half did not go to Hogwarts. Sirius had told him the time would come and fate would do all of it for him, blah blah blah, and had tried to give him hope of a younger soulmate. For a moment, Harry had thought it would be Ginny. There was, however, no connection there. There was no connection anywhere. Harry was alone, as he had always been, and there was no changing that.
Lupin had been the first person to explain soulmates to Harry, before even Sirius. It had been during his third year, when he had caught a glimpse at the cursive doodle on the inside of Lupin's wrist. His teacher had explained a lot of things that night. Harry had learned about his own father's meeting of Lily Potter, his soulmate, and the unrequited soulmate of Severus Snape. He had learned of people born without them, such as Dumbledore, and those who were born with more than one mark, as well. Lupin had shown him everything he knew about the stupid sentence written on his rib. Of course, Lupin hadn't ever gotten the chance to see it. No one had. Ron and Hermoine had asked to see it, once, but Harry had refused. Whatever it was, whatever it meant, he didn't want to think about it.
Harry sat in his old rusty swing for hours, swinging back and forth on the old metal thing that sent clouds of old rust to the ground below. Years ago, the playground had been well worn and very popular in the neighborhood. Little dips from years of use still sunk under each swing. They were overgrown with shrubs and grass, but their age was not hidden by the growth. When Harry bent down enough he could pull at the tallest weeds and the vines climbing their way up the side of the swing set. His feet would tear and grab at the shorter plants, wearing out a small dirt patch. That dirt patch had been worn from his weeks of hiding out here away from the Dursleys. It was a good place to be alone for a boy like him.
But it was time to go home. He had to face the music of whatever this night held and he had to pull his broom from his bag in his closet. Sirius hadn't mentioned his school supplies, which astounded him, but he was old enough to listen to his uncle. Harry had decided to leave them here. Sirius would work everything out.
Harry trudged home alone, opting to avoid the gang of boys that followed Dudley home. Even the alleyways weren't dark enough to scare Harry tonight. His mind held much darker and anxious thoughts than any alley could hold. If it wasn't his anxiety about this very night it was the memory of a night months ago. He looked up at the sky and saw the eyes of Cedric Diggory looking back at him. The stars reflected the horror Harry had seen in his eyes. Around them, the dead night only reminded him of the empty gaze of a soulless body looking right at him. Everything reminded him of Diggory these days.
The Dursley house came into view much too early for Harry's liking. It seemed like it took seconds for Harry to cross the road and stalk up to the door. Only a moment passed as he opened the door, nodded to his aunt and uncle on the living room couch, and made a break for his room. The door closed with a loud clank, and Harry was alone.
"Guess I better get packing, don't you think?" Was the first thing Harry said to his owl, Hedwig. The bright creature gave a small hoot in response, her eyes big and staring wide-eyed at her owner. A plate Harry had filled only a few hours ago with feed was already empty and waiting for more food. Harry poured a little more into the plate before turning to his dim room. Too bright lights bothered Hedwig. As owls are nocturnal, she liked Harry's room to be dark in the day. Harry wasn't too picky, and often only lit one lamp when he needed to do something or another. He would do just about anything for his owl.
"Oh don't look at me like that." He gave Hedwig a look as she flapped her wings. The amount of feed she saw wasn't enough for her to be satisfied. "You're on rations until I can get to the store." Harry paused for a moment at the instinctual reaction. Yes, it was the truth. He had a hard time getting to the store with the Dursley's breathing down his neck, but he wouldn't;t have to deal with them for much longer. "Well, I guess you would be if we were staying here."
Harry looks down at the bag of feed for his owl. If Sirius was going to take Harry away tonight, Hedwig wouldn't need any food for tomorrow. And his uncle was never one to lie about his arrival before, which he had plenty of opportunities to do during the tournament. Harry dumps the rest of the feed into the bowl, earning a happy chirp from his owl, before turning to his closet and pulling it open.
His Hogwarts trunk was stuffed in the back behind clothes. It was as he had left it since the beginning of summer. Or, since the last time he worked on his summer assignments. Those had gotten done far too quick for harry's liking. The anxiety of everything had pushed Harry towards work. Hermoine sure would be proud, but Harry had felt plain horrified. When he had set his quill down over the finished essays and work, he had been at a loss. Time hadn't slipped through his fingers like it did every year. It was standing tall and strong against his will for it to pass by already. He wanted out and it seemed time was not about to listen to his rattling.
A clatter filled Harry's room as he pulls out his luggage. The large thing was decorated with small red woven designs throughout it, looking almost like one of those cheap native ripoff merchandise you could get at a gift shop. Although it wasn't the prettiest thing around, it matched Gryffindor colors, so Harry didn't mind it too much. It reminded him of who he was when he was miles away from his home. Because, yes, he considered Hogwarts his home.
The zipper didn't give Harry any troubles nor did the spells he had cast over the luggage to keep muggles away. It was recommended for any muggle bound students -- Harry and Hermoine, for example -- to put charms over their things in the case of a robbery or other strange encounter. It would keep the muggles from finding things such as a quidditch broom while also installing a tracker onto the luggage. Harry never thought too much about the added protection, but he guessed it was pretty nice in those few situations. Inside, another charm had been cast to allow many different things to fit into a smaller area. It was much like the charms cast on the Weasley's tent during the World Cup, so long ago, and was much more useful to Harry than the added protection. His firebolt fit snuggly against the side of the case, surrounded by clothes and different soft materials to protect it from any unwanted damage.
When Harry lays his hand over the wood of his broom he feels an electric current run from his fingers all the way up his arm and down through the body of the broom. The last time he had actually flown was during the first event of the Triwizard tournament, and that had been more than half a year ago. The firebolt missed Harry about as much as Harry missed the firebolt. Their energies were connected, Harry liked to think, after so long of flying together. His broom was the one material thing he would miss if he lost it. Even his wand couldn't live up to its importance. Harry wraps his hands around the smooth wood and pulls the broom up and out of his luggage. The weight of it felt right in his hands. He bounced it up and down a few times, admiring the almost magical way it soared into the air and landed in his waiting hands. Soon, the broom was set to the side as Harry zipped up his belongings and stuffed them back in the otherwise pretty bare closet.
Next to go was his food. He had to peel back the secret board of his and pick up the leftovers. Where to put them had haunted him for a few moments in the park, but, considering how he wouldn't be here in the morning, he dumps the whole thing out the window. Bits of cake and sweets hit the garden below and blow everywhere. Harry could make out chunks of fruit cake splattering against the walls and leaving marks. The platters fell with a soft plop beside the remains of food, but that didn't leave the deep-rooted satisfaction that the bits of uncleanliness the chunks of cake had on Harry's soul.
The next few hours passed in a blur. Harry had to clean his room and make it immaculate for when he returned. He had to write a note to his loving family explaining where he had disappeared to in the night, which, was more than they deserved. But Harry didn't want to poof out of there and leave all his magical belongings to the Dursley's to throw away. After the note was finished, Harry said his goodbyes to Hedwig and let him out of the window into the night. The white owl had stuck by Harry's side for a few moments as if she knew they wouldn't see much of each other anytime soon. The two said their goodbyes, and then Harry was left to wait.
At first, he had focused on the low mumbles of the TV and his aunt and uncle from downstairs. Dudley had joined them and left when his bedtime rolled around. The house had gotten quieter after that, only broken by a few chuckles from Vernon. Then, his aunt and uncle had made their way to bed. Vernon's footsteps boomed around the hallway and throughout the rooms connected to it. The volume would put elephants advances to shame. Silence consumed the house when all were in their rooms. Vernon's snores would break it on occasion, but would fade away when he moves his fat body to a different position. The silence continued for so long, Harry had all but drifted to sleep when his window was thrown open.
"Harry! What are you doing, get up! Get up. We need to go now." Sirius Black came tumbling into Harry's room. The sudden commotion shocked Harry's brain awake and, in an instant, he was up and grasping for his broom. His godfather stopped him with an arm, gave him a hug, and pushed his way back towards the window. "Where are your things? I'll vanish them to where you're headed."
"In the closet. Uh, hi I guess? It's been a while I-"
"Harry, get your things. We need to get out of here and to the sky before someone notices us." Sirius interrupts his nephew, a small smirk stretching over his lips as said boy stumbles to the closet. "Don't fall on your face now. We don't want the whole neighborhood awake."
"Maybe if a stranger hadn't knocked my window in." Harry retorts with a sour tone. Granted, his heart rate hadn't slowed down enough to be considered normal. He had reached the closet and pulled the door open. The luggage he had haphazardly shoved in the too-small space tumbled out onto the floor. Or, tried to, at least. If Sirius hadn't caught the large thing with his magic it would have caused an uproar in the Dursley household.
"I told him not to." Came a familiar voice from outside the window. Harry's eyes lit up at the knowledge of his presence. None other than Remus Lupin was hovering outside the open window, his hand wrapped around a vacant broomstick and the other holding onto his very own. His health had seemed to improve since the last time the two had met. Harry couldn't see too many dark patches under his eyes, which should be considered a win with that man. "But your godfather is about as good as listening as his godson is. Hurry, Harry."
"Remus! I can't believe you're-"
"Yeah yeah, wonder over my soulmate after we get this stuff taken care of." Sirius once more interrupted Harry. He waved his wand around and the luggage Harry had fretting over was gone. The duo didn't give him much time to think of this, however, as Sirius pushed both Harry and his firebolt out the window with barely enough time left for actually mounting the stick of wood.
Sirius slips out of the window after Harry had. His gaze travels over his godson's stupid room, what kind of teenager had no posters on the walls, for more than a few moments. If everything went well he may never have to come back again. Though, that wasn't the purpose of this mission. Sirius needed to get Harry to safety, and this was the only way to do it.
Harry Potter's newest adventure had just begun.
New York City
Chapter Summary
Sirius and Lupin travel all the way to NYC with their godson, but their journey ends there. Harry Potter meets Nick Fury and Pepper Potts, both of which are more informed than they should be.
Harry smells something fishy.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"And you're sure he's my dad? Like, one hundred percent sure?" Harry Potter's voice cracked as he said the impossible. Sirius and Lupin stood behind him, brooms in hand, sharing looks of concern for their godson. The trio had, at long last, made it to solid land as the sun had begun to set on their almost twenty-four-hour ride overseas. The orange glow sat along the shoreline of the ocean's waves, sending a cozy reflection across the clouds and the ocean's surface. Their journey had been a long and hard one. Few breaks had been allowed for the sake of time, and the ones they had taken were risky landings on muggle cruise ships. Sirius had kept this little information to himself until right now, only telling Harry of their plans to fly to America. It was a miracle Harry trusts them as much as he did.
Lupin had been the one that insisted on his soulmate waiting to spill the beans. It had taken a long two-hour conversation late at night to convince Sirius, but he had him swayed by the end. Sirius had held his tongue on the biggest secret of Harry Potter's life. But now here they were. Harry was standing at the top of a cliff, his hair whipping around his face with the violent wind that accompanied it. The trio had gotten more than enough salt in their hair and faces to last a lifetime, but Harry was still standing there, breathing it all in. Breathing everything in.
"Pretty sure. The guy we're meeting is going to run a DNA test when he arrives." Sirius answers, handing off his broom to Lupin as he steps forward. The ground beneath their feet was soft and damp with rain of the previous day. As he stepped he could feel the soles of his shoe dip down into the soft ground. The chill of the sea breathed its way through their clothes and all the way down to their bones. Sirius's hand, however, when laid on Harry's shoulder in comfort, felt warm. "Then we'll all know for sure."
"You never mentioned my parents breaking up before." Harry breathes out. His words were shaky, yes, but who could blame him? Sirius sure couldn't find it within himself to look down on his godson for it. He had already been through hell, but to find out he had been living more of a lie than he had thought? It was crushing to anyone who reads it. No one could guess how Harry felt.
Harry felt betrayed. There was a spiral of anger and sorrow and grief for a man who was not his father. Even if he had found out his actual father was still alive, it felt more like losing James Potter than seeing his ghost a few months ago had. The flames of his emotional turmoil threatened to spill out the sides of his being; they lick at the edge of his magic. If he let go, truly let himself do as he wished, he could hurt his godfather.
"It was under a month's time," Lupin answered for Sirius. Lupin could see the torment in both of them. Sirius felt guilty for keeping this a secret for so long. Harry felt, well, everything at having been kept in the dark about it all. Lupin felt exhausted. "Your mother and father got in a big fight and broke it off. Lilly's family always went on vacation, and I think they took one as soon as her parents saw how broken up she was. By the time they came back, Lily and James had already decided they wanted to be together. No one thought anything of it when you were announced."
"We all assumed they had rushed things along to care for you." Sirius continues. His thumb rubs small circles into Harry's back, but he still stays a step behind him. He wasn't dumb; Harry didn't want Sirius to see him right now. Sirius wouldn't want to see himself in Harry's situation. "They were in love and fit so well together."
"They were soulmates!" Harry bellows. The loud noise seemed to disappear into the raging ocean as a penny does into a fountain it is thrown. Both Sirius and Lupin flinch at the tone held there, no matter how quickly the words are lost. "How could my mom-"
"Things happen, Harry. People make mistakes. Your mom made a mistake and made up for it. James never let it get in the way of things." Sirius lets his hand fall from his godson's shoulder. Through it, he could feel the tremors of the teen's body. Those shakes represented pain and anger, both things Sirius didn't ever wish to cause in his family. He couldn't take feeling them under his own palm. "We'll leave you until Fury arrives, but then you have to face the music, Harry. You're in danger and this is the best decision. I do not care if you wish to go back to the order and I do not care if you hate me for this; it is more important for you to be safe."
Harry didn't answer his godfather. His hand curls up and uncurls every few seconds like clockwork. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel right now. He felt angry? He felt sad? He felt betrayed? It was all a big whirlwind of emotions that seemed to drill into his heart like a wooden stake. It was a burning effect that ate at his own flesh and blood until a perpetual ache took hold of his beating heart. Harry could feel the heat of the pain settle into the walls of his core; he was confused, angry, and overwhelmed.
And it seemed, as the wind around the field suddenly picked up and blew blades of grass to his back with such intensity that he felt the harsh sting of a papercut, that it wouldn't end for him anytime soon. There was no time to digest, as it happened, before a plane the size of the Dursley house appeared out of thin air, lowered to the ground, and shut off its engine. The calm field Sirius had scoped out for them came alive with the energy of the ship. Animals scurried away, insects groaned with the force of the winds that sent them miles back, and the three wizards stood in different levels of anguish as their eyes landed on the metal of the oversized plane.
A loud roar filled the field. This drew Harry's undivided attention from his own bleak thoughts. None other than Nick Fury, a man Harry had only heard rumors of on his television, stepped out into the chill night. His outline was worse than Harry could have ever imagined. A permanent frown seemed etched onto his face, wrinkles stretching from the edges and up his face as if to say he wasn't always this old and grumpy. One of his eyes was covered with a dark eyepatch while the other looked with utmost seriousness from one body to the other. His hands were clasped behind his back as if he himself were the villain the avengers were fighting.
Yes, Harry had heard of the group of heroes. They were world-renowned and no matter how neglected he was with television time, he was bound to hear of it. Hogwarts had been ablaze with talk following the battle of New York. Muggle heroes? Muggles with magic? Hogwarts had gone crazy for a span of time, if it wasn't already crazy enough.
And now they were more than that. Now these avengers, one of them, would be a part of Harry's life.
"I come for a Stark?" Came the voice of Fury. His eyebrow shot up as he looked between the three wizards. "Sirius Black? Didn't think I would have a run-in with a mass murderer today. And Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived? Two famous wizards. Isn't this wonderful?"
"Harry Potter is the Stark, sir," Lupin answers for Sirius, as Sirius was too busy side-eyeing the plane to do much of anything else. His paranoia had never forgotten the days in Azkaban. No part of a person could ever forget that torture. Lupin's arm found its way around his soulmate in a protective manner. "Sirius called you, I am here for emotional support. It's nice to see you again, Nick"
"Fury, call me Fury. No one calls me Nick." Fury's eyes look past Sirius and Lupin to Harry. The teenager didn't look like much to him. If he hadn't seen and heard about the things the kid had done he would look over him, especially with Sirius Black standing right beside him. But he couldn't, not now. Fury looks past the scar and the anger, taking special attention to the specific details of the kid's face. He looks strikingly similar to the younger photos of Tony, he had to admit, but this was not enough to convince him of anything. "Come aboard. We'll do all the tests there."
"I'm afraid we won't be coming aboard your plane." Lupin, once more, spoke for his other half. In his hand, pulled hastily from the pocket of Sirius's jacket, was an envelope. The stamp on the front was one of the Black family, and the paper was one of a wizard's scroll stuffed into an envelope covering of sorts that fit the scroll. It was the most official piece of paper Sirius could pull together in his frame of mind. "Take this and give it to Mr. Stark when you deliver Harry to him. It has all of Harry's information as well as a personal letter from Sirius and I."
"Wait. Hold on a minute." Harry shot forward, only stopping when he was face to face with his godfathers. An anger was held in his gaze, and anger that burned so bright it was felt in Lupin's own heart. "You give me no warning of my own kidnapping. You take me from my house and make me fly over the whole ocean without any knowledge of why. You tell me my father is Tony Stark and my mother cheated on her own soulmate to conceive me. And then you dump me with a stranger. What the hell!"
"Harry I know you don't understand this, but-"
"I understand just fine!" Harry snaps, his hand wrapping around the envelope in Lupins hand and pulling it out of his grasp with such force it almost made him stumble. "You doing this to protect me, right? Isn't that what this is all about? Oh, make sure the freak with a scar lives to see another year as everyone dies around him.
"Well let me tell you something and I want you to listen to this. It doesn't work when you hurt the person you're protecting more than you help." Harry doesn't even look back at his godfathers when he walks away. Their stunned faces were hidden by the fog and the onsetting darkness. Harry couldn't find it within himself to care. "This is what you want? For me to lounge in a big tower like a sitting duck while you all fight for your lives? Fine. Whatever. I don't even care."
Fury has to step to the side to let the fuming teenager pass. His eyes follow Harry's movement with caution as he boards the plane. Harry Potter was not one to be messed with, he knew that, and yet he couldn't help but let his guard slip with him. After whatever he's been through he wouldn't be turning his wand on the crew, that Fury was sure of. If this powerful wizard did turn out to be Stark's -- a possibility that was growing with every second spent with the boy -- the whole Avenger's unit would have their hands full. As soon as the surprise and anger had cleared, the boy's head would turn to the next big step; what now?
Harry didn't even see Fury as he pushed past. Well, he saw a different kind of fury, the red kind, as he stomped into the bright ship and slammed his body down into the first seat he could find. The metal contraption was not near comfortable enough to soothe his anger. The harshness of the metal only seemed to set him off worse. He could feel the magic reach out, lash out, in the air around him. It wasn't powerful enough to hurt anyone, but Harry was sure it could if he tried hard enough.
"That was quite the scene." Harry looked up as the woman spoke, and met the eyes of a woman he had seen almost as much as his own -- maybe -- dad on television. Her hair was as blonde as could be and had been pulled back in a tight bun Harry had always seen her wear. The smile that spread across her face showed the lines of stress and the thinning of her lips, yet it all came together to form a soft, motherly face. This aura was betrayed by the business suit and heels she wore. "Pepper Potts, CEO of-"
"I know who you are." Harry snaps at the outheld hand. The woman clears her throat at the tone and lets her hand fall to the side of her dark-colored skirt. It was this that made Harry remember his anger. He lets his head fall with the shame of it, which only adds to the clusterfuck of emotions already coming to a gnarly head in his mind. "Sorry, sorry. That was rude. I didn't mean that. It's nice to meet you, Miss Potts."
"It's alright Harry. You've been through a lot in a short amount of time, a little anger is to be expected." The woman says with a smile, soon after settling down beside the teen. Pepper hadn't ever been approached by something like this from Fury, but the man had seemed adamant she was here. When things had finally been explained to her it wasn't hard to board the plane.
Harry snorts at the woman's words, but otherwise falls silent. The day had already been a crazy and exhausting one and it seemed it wouldn't be getting any better. Sirius had told him he would have to go through a few tests. Harry had assumed Sirius would be there with him to calm his nerves about the whole thing. It seemed he would not get that luxury today. He would simmer in his own nerves and confusion until someone, anyone, decided to let him in on the big joke. Because that is what this was, it had to be. There was no way this was real. Harry Potter was the son of Lily and James Potter. It was them who gave their lives for his and it was them who he saw when he looked in the mirror during his first year. This, however, did not stop the small voice in his head who told him this was just the thing to happen to him, Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived. It was a cherry on top of the shit pie that was Harry's life.
He couldn't get Sirius's tone and words out of his head. When he had told Harry his blasphemous story of love and loss, he had sounded sincere. There was no lie in his words or his emotions. Harry had looked his godfather in the eye and had seen the very same emotions he had felt himself mirrored in the ex-con's eyes. Sirius was ashamed he hadn't told Harry, confused as to what was going on, scared as to what happened next, and angry he had been the one to break this kid's beliefs. In that moment they had been closer than they had ever been; Sirius, the worried godfather of a destined hero, and Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived who, sometimes, didn't want to live anymore. Their anguish had been shared, as had their regret.
A nurse stopped in front of Harry as soon as the plane's doors had shut. Two seats had been lifted open beside Harry, for Sirius and Lupin, and were shut and closed as Fury walked by alone. Harry had little time to even breathe in Fury's presence before he was gone. His place was taken by three more nurses, all holding a different piece of high tech equipment that definitely would not have worked anywhere near Hogwarts.
"Uh, what are you doing?" Harry asks one of the nurses, his attention drawn away from him as she flicks the side of a needle. Behind her, another nurse held a q-tip in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. Both look down at Harry with little emotion. With their silence, Harry recoils away from the group of women.
"It's a DNA test. To see who your parents are." Pepper offers up. She had taken a seat too close to Harry for comfort, but, now, when no one else was around, he found himself grateful for the soft-spoken woman. The effort was a lot like the one Hermoine had on him when studying. It was soft enough to portray compassion but with a hard enough edge to get him to listen to her words. "Of course, you have to have both parents DNA to see both of them. We'll be testing it against Mr. Stark's DNA, as that's all we need."
"Why two methods?" Harry points a finger at the two nurses looming over him. They looked like villains from a comic book and he didn't like it much. Is this what they did without magic? He knew it was, of course, he had lived in the muggle world for eleven years before even beginning to ponder the existence of wizards, but it was still inconvenient and annoying. If this had been a wizarding establishment they would know the results before he even entered the ship. There would be none of this needle nonsense. "You only need one positive test."
"Two tests, twice the conformation." One of the nurses prattled off. Her gloved hand pulled Harry's sleeve up over his shoulder, exposing the pale skin and the tan line he had gotten from the day under the sun. Actually, he was rather sunburnt from the journey. His cheeks were a rosy red that was completely unnatural and overheated. This didn't even seem to faze the nurses as they prick his skin. The needle was hard to look at while it went in the skin, so Harry looked away. His eyes meet Pepper Potts.
"I don't even know if this is true or not," Harry spoke. Pepper looks up from whatever device she was typing on at the teen's voice. Her eyes meet the harsh ones of Harry and soften in their anger. Of course, she didn't want to be there. She was the CEO of Stark Industries. There was no real reason for her to be here, so why was she? In fact, why had Nick Fury, a very important man, come to pick up a maybe Stark descendant? This all was too weird for Harry, and he had seen a lot of weird things in his lifetime. "My godfather kindly left out the fact about my biological dad being alive until ten minutes ago."
Harry's hand grasps onto the scroll thing Sirius had given to him before disappearing into thin air. It made sense that the two of them couldn't stay for long. Both were very important members of the Order of the Phoenix, something they had filled him in on during their day of travel, and had things to do back in Europe. This, somehow, didn't make anything better. He wished the damned scroll was for him. At least then he may get some sort of explanation as to why they had done what they did. The silk covering of the scroll wasn't making it any easier to ignore, as the softness of it made him want to run his thumb along it again and again. He needed it out of his sight; out of his mind. After a few seconds, he holds the scroll up to the CEO.
"This is for my father. It's from my godfather explaining what the hell is going on here." The nurses had taken a few steps back by this point, after one of them had stuffed a q-tip so far down his throat he gagged, and had left him to his own devices. He guessed they only had to wait at this point. "I don't want to hold it anymore. If you can't tell, I'm not happy with the man who wrote it."
"Which one is your godfather?" Pepper's voice was much softer than it had been before. She took the scroll from Harry's offered hand with only a small frown of confusion. Muggles didn't use scrolls, which neither Sirius or Remus seemed to care about while writing away their godson. The scroll was slipped into a briefcase by Pepper's side, which was set against the wall of the metal contraption they were sitting in. It closed with a click as she returned her focus to the teenager in front of her. "The gruff-looking one or the sickly one?"
"The gruff one." Harry chuckles at the descriptions of his godfathers. He guessed it wasn't that bad of one, actually. Remus had always looked sickly, according to Sirius, and even months of Sirius cooking for him had done nothing to help it. Sirius was worried, Harry could tell, but the ex-prisoner cared more for hanging around his soulmate than he did about what he looked like. Remus was much the same. After Harry had cleared Sirius's name, the two took to each other like, well, soulmates. Anyone could see the joy shining behind their eyes at finally being together at last. "The sickly one is his soulmate. He's, uh, he's got a disease of sorts that makes it hard for him to gain any weight."
"And you lived with them before this?" The easy conversation between them was keeping his mind off of the anger and what was to come. It was hard to imagine his dad alive, yet harder to imagine him not James Potter and a billionaire that was smarter than even Hermoine at this point. The thought brought with it a lot of canned emotions Harry didn't want to tap into when he was still so angry at Sirius and Remus for leaving him behind. He could overwhelm himself with emotions, and that wouldn't turn out good for anyone.
"No, I didn't. Neither had a stable enough home and I attended boarding school anyway, so I stayed with my aunt and uncle during the summer." Harry was sure his lips had turned up in disgust at the words. His hands clenched as he thought of the dreaded home. Abuse was absent, if you looked at the definition of it, but Harry was sure there was some sort of neglect that could get him taken away from the household if he brought it to the attention of the authorities. He never would. There was so little time left and everyone was so set on him staying there that it seemed like something that had to happen. "Until recently, it was the only place I could go. Then, randomly, Sirius showed up and took me all the way here."
"All the way from Great Britain?" Pepper asks, her eyebrows shooting up. She was shocked at the news, and for good reason. Harry Potter was but a child. His body had started to mature, she noted the tall stance and gangly arms, but had not caught up with itself yet, leaving an awkward half-adult looking teen in front of her. He was not old enough to be taken away from his family like that, nor was he old enough to seem happy about it. "Did you want to come here?"
"Not to New York City. Not to see my father I didn't know was my father." He was impatient and annoyed and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to sit in the plane for much longer. So, he didn't. As soon as he saw a nurse stroll by he was up, pacing up and down the aisle in front of Pepper. The movement was calming to him. It was something he could control, his feet, in the middle of a situation with little control in it. "I don't want to be stuck here with a bunch of random, highly trained, strangers and I don't want to meet someone that's supposed to be family when I'm so angry at my godfather I could punch a wall."
"We have punching bags, those will have to do." Pepper chuckles at the antics of the boy. Her heart reached out to the boy thrown in the middle of a pit of fire without any warning. Eventually, his anger would simmer down and he would need a lot more comfort than anything else. Hopefully, Tony would take to being a father before that happened. Or, at least, hopefully, one of the three soulmates would. "You'll fit in just fine at Stark tower."
"Stark Tower?" Harry stumbles over his own feet at the words. He was sure England didn't get as good of news as America did about their heroes, but he had heard enough about Stark tower for him to be scared. "You mean the big tower that all the Avengers live in? Doesn't Stark have a, I don't know, the house he could take me to or something? I can't- they are the Avengers. I;m just a kid."
A kid who fought Voldemort. A kid who's cursed. A kid who's whole life has been a large series of crazy events one after the other. His brain screamed these things at him as he spoke. This was just another step on the crazy staircase of Harry's life. One day, maybe, the thing would level out but right now it's just one after the other. He should get used to it. This crazy paced life was something that had found him. He hadn't even been searching for it and it had sprang up in front of his very eyes. This shouldn't be surprising, but it was. He had seen James Potter multiple times as his father, right beside his mother. Wouldn't he, I don't know, see Tony Stark there instead? When had his life gotten so messed up? But, then again, who was he kidding, his life had been messed up from the time Voldemort had left him his scar.
"Calm down, Harry. Things will be alright." Pepper tries to assure the teen, but she could see the inner turmoil inside of him. It was something he had seen in every Avenger before, and it scared her to see it in a fifteen-year-old boy. Harry had been through something bad enough to give him that look. No one should be feeling that so young. "Everyone there is nice enough to accept you as soon as they realize who you are. And if they don't Mr. Stark will make sure they do."
"Why are you all so sure I'm a Stark? I don't even know if that's for real or not!" Harry looks over to Pepper with suspiciously narrowed eyes. Her words struck a nerve, and he was prepared to sneak around to get his answers. He wouldn't have to go far. Pepper's eyes meet Harry's for little more than a moment before Pepper averts them. She shifts, crosses her legs, and gives herself up in the same instant. She was lying to him. Or, at least, she wasn't telling him the full truth. Harry had been lied to enough by this point to know. "Why are you so sure I'm a Stark."
Pepper falls silent at that, her eyes purposely avoiding the teenager in front of her. Her hands were held awkwardly in her lap, and she plays with her thumbs as Harry watches her. It wasn't hard to tell she was hiding something. If the silence didn't do it, the purse of her lips and inability to look Harry directly in the eye would point to her knowing more than she is letting on. That bothered Harry to no end. He hated being left in the dark, but it seemed the world was not about to let him in on the secret. Harry had just stopped pacing, faced Pepper Potts, and opened his mouth to ask the dreaded question when Nick Fury strolled into the room. He looked somehow more troubled than he had the last time Harry had seen it.
"The results are in." Fury spoke with hands held behind him in a way Harry couldn't see them. His words draw the attention of the room; both Harry and Pepper face Fury with a look of curiosity written plainly across their faces. The held conversation was forgotten as easily as the wind. "Congratulations Harry, you're a Stark."
"You're shitting me," Harry mutters, falling back into the seat next to Pepper Potts. Of course, he wasn't surprised that Sirius was telling the truth. His godfather was always good at that, but, well, this was a big scary change Harry Potter was thrown into. Again. The world just loved to pull the carpet out from under him at every point in his pathetic life. Everything was cold, even the very seat Harry had plopped down into. The cold metal hit his back and sent little shivers over his skin. He wouldn't mind it so much if it didn't push him to believe how real this situation was. New York City. Harry Potter was in New York City. And it wasn't just for a random America visit, no, it was too, you know, meet his father he just found out about.
"We will land on the base and send you two out on a helicopter to the tower." Fury began to command the people of the plane around like they were his own teenage children. A flurry of movement and confusion followed his every order until there was no more to give. Pepper herself had pulled out her phone and began typing away when Fury mentioned warning Tony Stark of their arrival. Surely he was aware of Harry. Pepper would tell him and get it over with now. That would be one less thing for Harry to worry about, at least.
Harry sat still in his seat as everything went on around him. It was hard, unusual, for him to be sitting on the sideline while everyone else worked for him. Though he had to admit, it was nice to not be the center of attention for a period of time. Nurses and guards alike skim past him without seeing him. They didn't know who he was. Their eyes didn't twinkle with curiosity the first time they saw him. To them, he was just some snobby kid who happened to be birthed from one of the richest men in the world. Nothing too important, right?
Sirius had warned him against using magic before they parted ways. His godfather was good at hiding, it would be wise to listen to his advice, but Harry still found himself fingering the length of wood in his pocket. That wand had done a lot for him in the past. It had saved him many times, and given him a life when he was sure he had none to look forward to. It could save him here, too, if things came to that. Perhaps they wouldn't. Could anyone even find him here in America? It seemed like enough of a gap between America and England to successfully cover his own tracks. There was a chance of him being safe here. Not to mention the whole tower of heroes he would be flown to in less than a few hours.
God, Harry had a headache.
--
"Take care of my godson, Fury." Sirius Black stood a few feet away from Fury, at this point, as the director of shield had finally stepped down from the metal landing of his aircraft. Wind from the landing was still blowing over the three in waves. The wind whistled through trees and hair, sending Sirius's own flying back around him like a tornado. Light joined the treacherous wind with the big spotlight Fury himself turned on as he stepped out. The wind mixed with the bright white light was blinding. Both Sirius and Lupin had brought a hand up to cover their eyes, which Sirius hated to do in the presence of Nick Fury. Said man didn't have to do either. He stood strong and straight in front of them. The light actually gave him a halo of sorts, making him look a lot like the sun during a solar eclipse. How the man always made himself look professional and otherworldly was beyond him. "That is all I want. I won't ask for anything again."
For a moment, no one spoke. A layer of awkward silence stretched out in front of them. Sirius and Lupin glaring directly at Fury through their fingers and Fury glaring right back. The head of shield had clasped his hands behind him in a very uncomfortable looking fashion. His lips were pursed enough to show his clear annoyance with the situation. Why was he even here again? Fury wanted nothing more than to imprison the mass murderer right in front of him. He had put out scouts all over the world to look for Sirius and none had come back successful. It was a wonder the man could hide so perfectly, but, even more than that, it was a wonder Fury was going to let the man walk away from this field a free man. But his honor was at stake and, well, Fury wouldn't allow himself to betray the two in front of him.
Sirius and Lupin didn't fare any better. Lupin had only been told the full plan after Sirius had already arranged it. He had not had any time to put in his two cents regarding the means of Harry's transportation to the Stark Tower. It wouldn't be safe for Sirius to travel through the most populated place in America, but he hadn't planned on that. Lupin had assumed he would be the one walking Harry to his father, but of course, that would not be the case. Sirius had thought this through far too much. By the time they arrived back in the Black Family residence, no one would have missed them. Harry would be safe and the order would be none the wiser. For a time, at least. They knew Dumbledore would have their hides for this, Lupin had explained this to Sirius many times, but that wouldn't stop them -- Sirius -- from acting. And now here they are, standing in front of an old friend, if you could call him that.
"Harry Potter will be safe. Safer here, under the care of the avengers, than anywhere you could have held him in England. I can promise you that." Fury spoke through gritted teeth. Even his normal, cold tone was warmer than that he spoke through now. One who knew Fury well would see the tension held about him. It was an odd sort of caution not seen in his bones for a long time. He had long since grown out of petty fear for his own life. Something about these wizards made him worry for a different reason.
"It's nice to see you again, Fury," Lupin spoke before Sirius could ruin the peace of the clearing. He was more charismatic than his soulmate, always had been, and got a better reaction from the director of Shield than him, as well. Fury's eyes settle on the werewolf, which he nods to once. The three knew each other and knew each other well enough to be considered old, awkward friends. If those friends had seen wars, violence, and death more times than they could count. Their reunion brought back dark times. "We appreciate the favor."
"It is the only one I owe you, Sirius." Fury retorts, his eyes slipping from the one speaking to him back to the shorter man held in his arms. Sirius was simply fuming under Lupin's hold and if said soulmate hadn't been there he was sure to have attacked already. No one could blame him, least of all Lupin, for his reaction. In his sane mind, before Azkaban, Sirius would have controlled his anger better; however, it was not before Azkaban and it was hard to control himself.
"We won't ask you of anything more, Fury." Sirius hisses between his teeth, a tone matched by Fury;s previous words. The crazy look that had settled upon his features was unsettling. Every word exchanged amongst the three only soured it further. "You're free to ignore everything happening over there. I think it's rather fitting. It's what you've always done best, isn't it?"
"My favors are all paid, Sirius Black." Fury speaks in such a cool tone following such a hot remark it was hard to follow. The two sides of the coin were very different from one another, it seemed. Fury speaks in a cold enough tone to rival his own previously used. The immediate turn from Sirius's hot-headed remark to Fury's stone-cold retort was enough to throw many off-balance. "Do not come blabbering for my help ever again. I will not come."
Fury turns as if to leave, his patience worn thin. His eyes skim over the two men who had called him a day ago, taking in the obvious signs of aging he had missed in his fifteen-year absence. It pulled on his heartstrings, to see the two so grown up, but he quickly squashed that thought for more rational lines of reasoning. There is a reason he left. He will not ask for anything more; he couldn't bring himself to.
"Voldemort is back, Fury." Sirius suddenly blurts. This gave Fury pause. He doesn't look over his shoulder, but he might as well have for how little he was known to pause in his way. Sirius took this as a pass to continue. "Harry is in danger and this was the only option. You must know how hard it is for us to contact you. We did to keep the kid safe. Keep him safe. Please, I'm begging you."
"I assure you he will be. Tony Stark's son will be a well-protected teenager. Harry Potter will be safe." Fury said with resolve and truth. He had no doubt in his mind the Avengers could overcome any magical being that Voldemort would throw at them, if he ever found him. His resolve, however solid it was, did falter a little at the news. Voldemort returned? After so many years away it was hard to imagine the same shadow drawn once more over the English sky. Fury didn't even want to imagine. The metal of the plane begins to creak as the pilot lifts it. He had no time to worry about it.
"Thank you." Fury looks back to the two wizards then, as the door of the plane lifted. His eyes crinkle at the side with lines of worry. Voldemort was back and he hadn't heard about it, which wasn't good at all. Fury looks back at the two wizards then, over the top of the lifting door. Sirius looked truly troubled, something Fury had never seen on his face, and Lupin wasn't fairing any better. His words were sincere, which was hard to believe considering Fury's own identity. The two were serious about this. This reached above petty arguments and betrayals. Sirius was protecting his godson as his own.
Nick Fury had to protect Harry Potter. He had to repay his debt.
Chapter End Notes
Okay I know I suck at updating. I've been on vacation recently and I'm a high school senior in the middle of an f-ing pandemic give me a break. This chapter is pretty long so I hope it makes up for the neglect.
Yes, I know the two main characters haven't even met. Peter isn't going to be introduced for many, many chapters. This story is more focused on Tony and Harry than anything else, but those two haven't even met. Oh well.
I am a slow and detailed writer. If you don't like that I would suggest you don't invest time in this story. It is going to be a long one.
Enjoy! Tony and Harry will meet when the time is right.
Hi, Harry
Chapter Summary
Harry meets his new dad(s). Tony finds out Lily Evans is dead, and, well, not Lily Evans anymore.
Chapter Notes
Life sucks, 2020 shouldn't exist, and my school is set to open in two weeks. Fun times, y'all. Updates are going to be slow and I apologize for that. There is no schedule for me.
Also sorry if this chapter sucks. I saw the 12 pages thing and decided editing wasn't a thing. So it's not as proofread and finetuned as I would have liked, but, ya know what? Oh well.
Enjoy!
"Lily James Potter." Tony reads the letter with a shaking hand. His eyes search over the black blobs of letters not really seeing a single detail, well, except for that name. That damned name was haunting. When was the last time he had even heard it? It had been years since she had come up in conversation.
Paper crinkled in his hand as he balled it up. The written words were forgotten. Whoever this Sirius Black character was he was playing him; he had to be playing with him. Tony had no child. He had never- he couldn't be a father. His eyes linger on the ball of paper as it flys into the wastebasket. Even among the other useless files, it called to him. He should probably read the whole thing. It was unthinkable.
"Tony." Pepper stood in the doorway, as she had staid from the very moment she had stepped in the office. Her arms were crossed over her chest in an uncaring manner, but her eyes were soft with the pity she felt for the man. She could see hurt so clearly in his eyes. It boiled so deep in his gut, cutting through him as if acid was cutting through his very flesh. This wound had been a deep one, and it had just been opened. "Harry is waiting in the kitchen. Steve and Bucky are with him."
"They don't know, do they? God, tell me they don't know." Tony pushes aside his latest project with his uncaring hand. The scraps of metal fly to the floor noisily, but no one could really find it within themselves to care. Those had taken millions of dollars. They were nothing when set beside this. Tony laid his arm in the cleared space. The stool he had previously sent to the floor when Pepper had shown up was placed delicately underneath him, as if he was some doll to cradle in small arms.
"My name's Lily, and no I am not from around here." The woman was shorter than Tony, which he always liked, with warm-toned blonde hair that fell just perfectly under her sunburned skin. That very detail -- the skin damage -- had drawn Tony's first words. Her eyes had drawn him in, closer to the mystery of a woman laying by herself on the beach, but her hair had done it for him. He had to know this woman. "I already know you, Anthony Stark. The American news just can't shut up about your nightly routines."
"They can't? Well, I don't see how it's any of their business." Tony slips onto the towel beside the young woman as if he belonged there. In a way, he did. The beach had become his home this past week. His father had been rather hard on him as of late. As he owned half of the city, there wasn't much space for him to wiggle away. The beach had done that for him. It was easy to slip away in the crowd. "Where are you from, princess? I thought sunscreen was sold everywhere."
"I didn't tell them. But Harry might have, I can't guarantee his silence. He's very angry about the whole affair." Pepper's eyes watch Tony without so much as a wondering glance in any other direction. He had leaned over the countertop in such a way as to make himself as small as possible. This wasn't ever a good sign with him. "Tony they won't feel differently about it. They know of this woman."
"Knowing and raising a kid are two different things, Pepper. And we're sure they aren't lying?" Tony suddenly felt as if he was a hundred years old. The world was weighing down on his shoulders, he felt like Atlas, and there was no escape from the guilt that began to settle there. She was dead? How could she be dead? Sure, he hadn't kept tabs on her after her departer, but, well, he had always assumed she wouldn't need to be looked after. From the way Sirius had begun the letter, it seemed as if Lily had been murdered. When Tony had met her, she had no enemies. Her heart was one of great good. That didn't just change. "It could be a trick. They could have- maybe they- god."
"Tony no one but James, you, your soulmates, and I know about Lily. Besides, Fury ran tests before he even thought about bringing this to you." Pepper pushes off the wall only then. She seems to pause for a moment, stuck between the laboratory and the hallway sitting outside of it. The blue of the terminal in front of her sent a dreary blast across her face. It outlined the canyons of worry on her face. Tony didn't like seeing her like that. "Harry Potter is your child."
"And it seems they weren't wrong about you, Stark." Lily rolls her eyes at the young man beside her. America loved him, that much was obvious, but this woman was different. Tony had always liked different. His eyes scan the woman as she shifts under the sun. Her eyes were suddenly covered by sunglasses, which worked to block out the beautiful shade of green they emitted.
"Tony. Call me Tony." Said young adult spoke. His hands and heels dug into the soft sand of the beach. Salt from the air clung to his skin and his hair, weighing it down with its presence. When he got home he would bring some of the beach with him. "Stark is my dad, and he's an asshole."
Lily snorts at Tony's response, her eyes shifting to the man beside her. From the slow smile that breaks across her features, Tony was sure she had seen something she liked. God, he wished she didn't need the sunglasses. "If you're trying to get me in your bed, too bad buddy. I'm not that easy."
"I would never." Tony gasps out dramatically. The sound draws a sweet laugh from the woman next to him. He simply stares at her for a moment. She hadn't said anything, of course, when they had spoken, but perhaps she was a shy one. That thought was nice. Even more likely was a progressive mind. There had been a movement of rebellion lately. "I usually take girls out to dinner, first."
"Well then I guess I'm going out to dinner tonight, hm?"
"She's dead?" Tony whispers through his hand, which was rubbing violently over his overgrown stubble. A stroke of genius had hit him a few days ago and he had been running nonstop since. Steve and Bucky had enough trouble getting him to eat. Shaving was out of the question, which neither of the men really seemed to mind. Now, Tony was glad for the stubble. It prickles against his calloused hand. The slight discomfort was enough to remind him he was here, sitting in his lab, with the news of a dead Lily Evans. They hadn't even talked in years. It shouldn't bother him this much, but it did.
"Yes. Please, come up as soon as possible. Harry needs to meet you soon, Tony." Pepper, having decided on her destination, turns from the doorway of the lab and turns to the hallway. Her heels click against the marble as she steps along it. Behind her, an emptiness sets into Tony's vision. The only ones around were his machines, his children, and he much preferred it that way.
No one was around to see him cry. Nor were they around to witness Anthony Edward Stark rummage around in the trash bin for a stupid letter.
--
Wind off of the helicarrier blew Harry's hair in front of his eyes, obscuring his vision for a few precious moments as his feet hit the cement. It was a breeze cold to touch, one that made shivers run down his sunburnt skin. Processing the new environment was delayed, thanks to the wind, for a few seconds. He was the only one affected, it seemed, as Pepper steps across the hard, chilled cement of the roof without pause. She passes Harry's awestruck form, her heels hurrying across the platform towards the only door in sight. Two men, standing side by side, held open said door for the visitors of the tower. From experience, Pepper was almost blind to the surprise that had gripped her attendant. Like a millionaire with unlimited money, she passed it along far too much to be stopped by its abilities. It just made no difference to her.
Harry didn't follow her as quickly or as confidently as she probably would have preferred. Once his bangs were pushed out of the way haphazardly by him he was able to see and take in everything presented in front of him. And, yes, he wanted to swallow it all up for as long as he was able. He was a man stumbling through a desert, who had just walked right into a large lake of cold spring water.
His lake, of course, was none other than the city of New York. The sun had already started its ascent into the heavens, casting its glorious battle scars along the metal contraptions of New York happily as it did. The glorious golden rays stretched like a newly risen child, touching every person, tower, and car as they went about their mornings. Its touch turned metal to liquid gold shimmering in the early morning, the clouds to puffs of pink cotton candy planes cut through like a knife through butter, and shadows into long gnarly stretches of demons people had only just escaped from their dreams. Harry couldn't see the ground, as he was too high, but he could sure hear it. Beautiful rays of golden light fell away to the industrial hustle and bustle of the people of New York. Blind rage honked horns, yelled slurs, and bumped shoulders against slow movers as they walked past. Cotton candy, it's sugary taste, was ignored by the people of New York City. Much like Pepper, they saw this every day. And, they weren't standing on top of a tower that reached the clouds. Hogwarts had held a different view, much different than this amazing city. Harry would glance out of his window and see green grass, white clouds, and the quidditch field full of one team or another (as long as it wasn't his own he got to sleep in). Harry could breathe in air and taste the freedom of nature. He felt like his own version of wild, a human left to their own devices in a remote location. New York City was different. He breathed in and he smelled the spice of industry and the sweat of those walking to work. He smelled the weight of the human population on the once nature ruled section of the world. Although it was different, he couldn't find it within himself to hate it.
"Harry," came Pepper's call. Her voice had turned to honey, in that moment, and, when Harry looks over at her, she was smiling at him. She knew exactly why he froze to the spot. For some reason, this calmed Harry's unknown nerves. This was a normal reaction to seeing New York City, then. Pepper had seen it before in others. Harry wasn't that out of the loop with the rest of humanity. Pepper gestured for him to follow her, and, after one quick glance at the Cotton Candy clouds, he does. Wind picked up his clothes, again, and his thin, oversized T-Shirt whips up in the wind and billows behind him. He looks back once more. The helicarrier had already started to head back to the air. It was the only way for Harry to leave this crazy story, and it was quickly slipping from his grasp. There was nowhere else for him to escape to when he stepped into that building. Harry turns his back to the helicarrier. Perhaps it was time for him to explore another adventure. Hopefully one free of Voldemort.
Even with this, Harry felt his insides flip flop with the sense of hopelessness he was filled with. Not even the beauty of New York City could save him, he was sure. At least, for a moment, he wasn't angry at anyone. Though, he guessed he wasn't really angry. His anger was a mask for deeper, harder to accept emotions he didn't want to tap into himself. Everything was new and there was no one to lead him by the hand this time. Unlike all those years ago, he was alone. Whatever happened, he would face it alone.
Pepper waited at the door for Harry to catch up. As soon as he did, she moved on. The door closed loudly behind them, scaring Harry for a moment, as they started to descend a very dark set of stairs. Harry was actually surprised at how creepy they looked. He had always assumed places like Stark Tower wouldn't have anything like this. The noises of outside fell away as soon as the door has closed, which was a very dynamic change. All noise came from the creak of the metal stairs and the click of Pepper's own heel against them. Every so often one of the guards would huff or sniffle, but, other than that, there was silence. Harry was left to fall back into his own sulky mood. Would this feeling plague him for the rest of his life? He sure hoped not.
"You'll wait in the kitchen while I speak to Tony. He'll need a few minutes to process before, uh-"
"Before he meets his son." Harry spits out the rest of the sentence for Pepper. The blonde only gave Harry a disapproving look, but held her tongue on anything further. Harry was disrespectful, he had to admit, but oh how he would love to shut Pepper down. She was lying to him, something he didn't take to too kindly, and, to make things worse, she was skipping over him in favor of taking care of Tony. Now, yes, she works for him, but Harry feels he should be given a little better treatment by the woman. Apparently his rage has squandered any resolve to save his relationship with the lady.
"Yes. It is a shock to us as much as it is to you." Despite the emphasis on the words, Harry scoffs. He vividly remembers the way Pepper Potts squirmed under his questions. Unlike the last remark, Pepper completely ignored Harry. "Surely one of the Avengers is in the kitchen to keep you company. Jarvis?"
"James Barnes and Steve Rogers are currently eating breakfast, Miss Potts. The rest of the avengers are either in their respective rooms or the infirmary recovering from the previous mission." A disembodied voice spoke out through the otherwise empty hallway. It was worth a raised brow, but, well, Harry was a wizard. It was more shocking to realize a muggle had built this than it's actual existence. Harry wasn't aware of any magic-user on the avengers team and, besides, no magic that advance would work in such a hub of technology. That left some sort of creature behind the voice.
"And Tony?" Pepper's tone indicated her knowledge of where Tony was. She almost sounded bored, as if only asking out of necessity. As the voice began to answer, Harry searched for some sort of sign as to the person or creature who was talking to them. He found nothing of value, unfortunately. "Don't fret, Harry. Jarvis is an AI. You won't find him lurking in the shadows."
"Tony is in his lab, Miss Potts. Should I unlock the door for you?" Harry had no idea what an AI even was. His years in Hogwarts had left him drifting away from Muggle technology as second rate. But this was different. This technology was something out of his wildest dream. It wasn't talked about anywhere else and he certainly hadn't seen it debut anywhere in England, which left it to be an exclusively Stark product. His dad, no, Tony, no, Stark, had created this. How could he create something so magical with only muggle technology?
"Yes, please. Has he eaten today?" An elevator had loomed below them for a few moments now, and, as they approached it, the doors slide open effortlessly. Once more, it closed with the same silence and efficacy it had opened once the group had piled into it. One single bright light hung above their heads, casting a harsh white light down on them. This Jarvis seemed to have control of it, as well, as the kitchen button automatically lit up and the elevator began its descent.
"No. The last time Mr. Stark consumed nutritious food was breakfast yesterday, provided by Mr. Rogers." This AI was just getting scarier and scarier, Harry decided. It was much better surveillance than Hogwarts had ever had. If Dumbledore got something even half as good as this AI, no student would dare wander out past lights out. Sneaking around this tower would prove a challenge.
"Great," was Pepper's response. It was a sighed, drawn-out reply. Much like Stark's location, she seemed aware that the man hadn't eaten for a long time. She knew him very well, which actually surprised Harry. The only thing he ever heard of her on the news was the scandal of their non-soulbond dating a few years ago and then her being handed the CEO position when Tony Stark stepped down. Harry snaps his head up from where it had been staring at the marble floor of the elevator. Pepper was looking directly at him. "And what about you, kid? When's the last time you ate?"
"My systems are picking up mild continued malnutrition and intense dehydration. I would recommend he eat as soon as possible." Jarvis answered before Harry was even given the chance. This, of course, bugged Harry more than it probably should. Since when could technology talk over him.
"Thanks for the help." Harry retorts with a glare up at the ceiling. After everything that had just happened, food was the very last thing on his mind. He wasn't sure he would be able to keep anything down with the nausea in his stomach. Then again, he knew he should eat. The Dursley's were still set on keeping Dudley on a diet, which meant, of course, Harry was on a diet. The summer had continued and he had eventually gotten mad at his friends. The extra food he had grown accustomed to had dried up. This hadn't exactly helped his feelings towards his friends.
Pepper actually chuckles at Harry's response to the AI. The elevator comes to a stop, and she steps out unceremoniously. Her hair, which was in a tight bun, had started to slip out of place. Small chunks of blonde hair fell from the perfect bun and waved around gently as she walked. Harry wanted to cast a quick spell to fix it, one Hermoine had shown him, but he pushed the instinct down. His hand still grabbed at his pocket, calming when he felt the familiar shape of his wand there. It was one thing he couldn't dare give up.
"Don't worry about Jarvis too much, Harry. You'll come to like having him around." Harry really didn't hear Pepper's reply, as he was once again awestruck by where he was. This one room was almost as big as the Great Hall. Seeing something that cost so much money right in front of him was astounding. Sure, Hogwarts was an ancient type of beauty, but it was made to conserve space. They didn't have the luxury of big, open rooms for every part of the school. This tower, however, seemed to call it a right. Morning light poured in from a large wall of windows to one side of the room, casting its golden glow around the whole area. The black of the TV, hung on a connected wall, turned to that nice liquid gold color common of plastic in the sun. A plush couch sat abandoned a few feet away from the TV, two more loveseats, and a chair on either side. In the middle of the three couches sat a glass coffee table. On it was a few empty water bottles someone had forgotten to throw away. Hanging above it all was a large chandelier. It sparkled in the light of the day and it's crystals, when they danced in the air, one could see their joyous reflections along the tan walls of the living room. This picture was a lot more domestic than Harry had imagined anything looking in this tower. Then again, these people lived here just as The Dursley's lived in their own home.
Harry was stilled into silence for a few moments. When he had drug himself out of it, Pepper was watching him expectantly. He assumed for an answer to what she had just said, but, well, he couldn't exactly remember what she had said. His brain racked around for the answer. It stumbled upon it eventually. "I doubt I'll ever enjoy his presence. Sorry, Jarvis."
"No offense taken, young Stark." If the room gave him pause, the voice gave him a heart attack. Young Stark? Harry hadn't even met this man. He wasn't a young version of him, even if they did end up liking each other. Harry was a Potter, not a Stark.
"Don't call me that." Harry snaps at the AI. He felt a little stupid being angry at a machine he couldn't even see, but he got over it. There was no way he was letting anyone call him that, much less Jarvis. "I am Harry Potter, and that is what you will call me, understand?"
Jarvis paused for a moment. It seemed oddly human, for a moment Harry reverted back to hs assumption of another creature, but, when he gave that same mechanical voice back to him, he let the thought simmer away into oblivion. His father was smart enough to make a machine sound human, apparently. Harry knew he was a genius, but hadn't ever been face to face with what that meant. Of course, his smarts couldn't have passed down to Harry. He was stuck struggling through most muggle classes until Hogwarts accepted him.
"Of course, Mr. Potter." Pepper once again gave Harry that disapproving mom look as Jarvis stacked away the information. Her gaze didn't last long, however, as she disappears around the corner to the kitchen. The guards had fallen back, apparently not welcome to follow, and it seemed Harry had no choice but to walk into the kitchen. He stares at the living room for a few more moments before stepping into the room Pepper had just entered. The kitchen wasn't as large as the living room, but it did its job. The countertop was smooth and mostly unused, minus the microwave and the toaster Pepper was currently standing over. There was an island connecting the main cooking area and the dining area, which had a long table sat in the middle of it. To one side of the table was a wall of windows much like in the kitchen. These windows showed just as much of New York City as the others. Harry couldn't differentiate the difference in this skyline and the previous. When the kitchen was full of people, Harry was sure it would feel as cramped as the Weasley's. Now, there were only four people in the room.
Captain America and the Winter soldier look up as Harry entered, probably expecting to see someone else. Both gain a confused glint to their gaze to the unknown boy standing in the entrance to the dining area. These two didn't know him, of course. They wouldn't have the knowledge of Voldemort or what had happened at the end of the Triwizard tournament to judge him on, either. To these avengers, Harry was a nameless figure. To harry, these two were some of the most well-known faces to his TV screen. Captain America looked just as he did on the television; his eyes a light baby blue, skin flawless, muscles perfect, and a small half-smile that invited one in. Even without talking, he was charismatic, if that was possible. The Winter Soldier looked a little different, however. His one ragged and unkept appearance had definitely been approved upon since the last time the world had heard from him, which had been about a month at this time. Instead of hanging down to his shoulders, his hair had been pulled up in a man bun. It suited his face, making the stubbled jawline somehow sharper and his eyes pop further than they had before. They sat side by side, their hands holding onto the others on top of the dining table. How could Harry forget? These two weren't just the heroes of the world, they were Tony Stark's soulmates. They were his dad's soulmates.
"I didn't know you had children, Pepper." Harry had to look away from the two super soldiers, then. Whenever he looked at them he saw the hurt they would feel when they found out. Tony Stark not only hadn't been faithful to his soulmates, he had a child with another person. He was going to be the last straw in their relationship. Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe Tony Stark had known about Harry this whole time and told them before it could be a major problem. Maybe they had already worked through this issue and Harry wouldn't have to break it to the two. He wasn't sure which would be worse. "What's your name, kid? Sit down, you look like you haven't eaten in days."
"Pepper doesn't have kids." Captain America spoke then. His drawl was much less Manhattan and much more familiar to Harry. The news stations really liked him, so everyone heard his voice enough. It was familiar, at least, is a whole world of new for Harrry. Then again, he never really expected himself to be meeting Steve freaking Rogers. "Who is he, Pepper?"
Harry would have been offended at being ignored if it had been any other situation. If Draco had ignored him he would have punched the kid in the face. This was different. The emotions in his heart were more vulnerable than they usually were. Being betrayed -- or his version of being betrayed -- did that to a person. So, he didn't fuss when who could possibly be his new father didn't seem very interested in actually talking to him. Here he was nothing more than a stupid kid. One day he would appreciate that, but right now it left a sting in the middle of his heart. That's all he ever would be here in Stark Tower.
"This is Harry, and that's all you need to know. Everything will be explained later." Pepper emerges from the kitchen with two plates of food and drink. One of them is set in front of Harry; on it sat a piece of toast with jelly, a few berries, and a bottle of orange juice for drink. Beside it was a bottle of water. He reached for the water and chugged most of it in one go. Traveling over a sea for a whole day left him drained. Yes, they stopped, but it wasn't the same as being there. "Watch him for me, you two. I have to go get Tony."
Harry nods to the woman as a thanks, and it seemed good enough for her standards. She pats his shoulder as she walks out of the room. Her heels click against the tile loudly with every step until they disappear into the large floor of the tower. When Harry looks up, both of his dad's soulmates are staring directly at him, and there was no one else to draw their attention away from Harry. He was stuck with them and their stares.
The only hope was that neither Rogers or Barnes seemed to know what to do with themselves, either. Which Harry found strange. Weren't they used to dealing with kid fans all the time? He had seen them with the packs of children dressed up in their Avengers uniforms before and every meet and greet had gone over swimmingly. It wasn't as if they didn't know how to talk to people.
Harry began to pick apart Captain America, Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier, and Bucky Barnes from one another, then. Captain America was the leader of the Avengers, the main man, the one that threw his shield to save his team. He fought bravely, too bravely, and did things by the book. No one went against what he said unless their name was Tony Stark. Captain America wore the flashy suit and handed out little pictures of him to kids when they asked for an autograph. Captain America waved and smiled and posed and spoke to the world about what the world needed to do to help him and the Avengers. Captain America was a superhero and a supersoldier. He fought by his best friend, the Winter Soldier's, side. Winter was new and shiny to the world, and they often ate up all the photos they could of him and his style. He was great for the silent missions. Those that no one should know about but always hear of after they are done. His abilities don't limit him and his lack of patriotism owed to America allows for him to make hard decisions on the spot when his leader isn't there to make them for him, and the Avengers will always make sure he gets out of the situation unscathed. They were two parts of a larger whole of heroes, all of which the world relies on more than their own government. Hell, two months ago they had destroyed Thanos before he could send half the universe into oblivion. THat had been a *not* fun week.
The men in front of him were two parts of their own three-person whole. Steve Rogers, although he looked the same as Captain America, acted nothing like the hero. He didn't seem to be as good with words, and searched for them almost anxiously as Harry watched him. His back was straight and his posture practiced, but his hair was everywhere and enough to break the facade of perfection. When he spoke of something too important he would look to Barned as if to make sure he was saying the right words, if he was messing anything up, and then barrel into whatever he was saying without thinking through it more than that. Harry wasn't sure, but he had to guess there was an underlying anger in both of them, mostly Barnes, as the dark-haired man was being held onto as tightly as steel by his partner. Barnes was different, too, then the winter soldier. They had the same gruff, I don't care, look about them just as Rogers had the same almost perfection, but it stopped there. He seemed much louder than the soldier and quick to act on impulse. His words were said with little regard to what they actually meant and who would get hurt by them.
All in All, they were an interesting pair, both inside the walls and outside in the world.
Harry looked down at his plate once more as awkwardness settled in the room. Rogers and Barnes were speaking quietly to one another about something, Harry wasn't sure what, and he was rather uninterested in what it was. He was as equally uninterested in the food. Someone would have to remind him to eat before he tried to put the bread in his mouth. So, the only thing left was the orange juice, which he hated. Harry grabbed the bottle and presses it against the back of his neck. The chill from the liquid against his vivid sunburn felt nice, soothing even, and allowed his muscles to relax a little under the stress of the current situation.
"So, uh, Harry, why did Pepper bring you here?" Rogers broke the silence and the awkwardness. Harry would have been grateful if it had been a different question. He almost sighs with the words, and looks up to meet the eyes of the men in front of him. Rogers offers a sheepish smile, as if to say sorry, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Another tic that Captain America was never shown to have. Then again, Captain America wasn't shown to have any flaws. Steve Rogers was the perfect middle, Harry came to understand. He was awkward but noble and strong enough to do just about anything. With the old fashioned views, he was sure to value different things, but as he walked down the streets of the present surely he would adopt a new way of thinking. And, if he didn't, he had Tony Stark -- Harry refused to call him anything else -- to help him see. Steve Rogers would be a great anything, a great dad, a great hero, a great man, and didn't deserve any of it to be muddied by his presence or his father's earlier mistakes.
"Kicking it off with the big questions, huh?" Harry sets his orange juice down without looking away from the two, because why would he? Sure, he didn't deserve to be their son, but he was important to the wizarding world. He could look these two saviors of the universe in the eye. Or he was just angry and being a bratty teenager, whichever you prefer. "I'm not going to answer that. Jarvis mentioned that everyone on team Avenger is recovered from a mission. What happened?"
"You haven't heard?" Barnes spoke this time, and his words flowed a lot better than Rogers had. Harry had heard that the man had always been a charmer. He guessed charmers didn't have much trouble talking to anyone in general, and perhaps that trait hadn't bene as brainwashed out of the man as the media seemed to think. "It's been all the media's talking about for days."
"Yeah, well I haven't been up to watching much TV." Harry rolls his eyes at the thought, picks up his orange juice, and violently slams it into the table. The Dursley's hadn't let him watch much of anything, and the small snippets he had managed to get where from local or European news. None of it had been about the Avengers at all. Oddly enough, there hadn't been a single news article on them all summer. Harry stashed that in his brain for later reference.
"Ah, well, a few days ago we were called over to Scotland. Some of the citizens there had gone insane and started killing everyone in sight. It was an odd sight. Whenever we tried to get close to them we would be thrown back or stunned by something. Tony's convinced there's some alien interference going on over there somewhere." Steve explained in short, vague words that made Harry think he wasn't telling everything. Hr probably wasn't, as the words piqued his own interest. It sounded a lot like wizards under a certain curse, but he couldn't really be sure without asking Hermoine for her opinion. And he couldn't do that anymore. He slammed his orange juice on the table again.
"How could you have not heard about it?" Barnes suddenly spoke up. He looked genuinely confused. It was an innocent look of curiosity, was the best way Harry could describe it, and so straightforward and honest he wanted to answer it. There wasn't an arrogance behind it. Barnes felt no negative emotion to Harry not really knowing much about him and what he did in his life. It was much different than some of the characters he met in his daily routine.
"My aunt and uncle don't like it when I watch the news." Harry shrugs the question off. It was an easy enough truth, though he guessed it sounded a lot better than it actually was. "So I didn't hear."
"Friends didn't tell you?" Rogers spoke this time. The questions were odd, sure, but it showed the curiosity the two felt towards Harry. Honestly, it was uplifting. They cared enough to ask annoyingly personal questions. It reminded him of Hagrid, in a way. Or dumbledore, though, usually the man didn't have to ask the questions. Hogwarts headmaster knew more about his students than they did themselves.
"I go to a boarding school and in the summer I don't keep in contact with them much." Harry shrugs and picks at the edges of his toast. He felt like he was being interrogated, and, as the two supersoldiers fell into silence, he felt his own chance to speak up. Harry wanted to take it. He wanted to grab the situation by the horns and find out something, anything, about the situation he was put into. Maybe find out what the two think of him before they have to find out he's their son.
"Harry, what's your last name?" Barnes seemed to have nailed onto something, if his tilt of the head wasn't enough to tell. It made Harry uncomfortable. It felt like he was being observed, and, well, not in a good way. Almost like there was a crowd around him and he was jumping around like a fool. A feeling in his chest rose just like when he first stepped into the first event of the Triwizard tournament. His skin went cold.
"I'm Harry Potter. You're James Barnes, and that's Steve Rogers. Now that the introductions are out of the way, can we move on?" His reply was snarky, he knew that, but didn't much care. Small talk was annoying and Harry didn't like it. When silence met his response he was up off his chair and walking to the kitchen. At least here he wouldn't feel the awkwardness so strongly.
"Steve." Was all Harry heard before something -- someone -- else drew his attention from the supersoldiers.
The man who strolled out looked exactly how Harry had expected him to look. Though, he guessed he had cheated with watching the news. Tony Stark was plastered all over everywhere most of the time. Iron man even more. His hair was greyer than it was on camera, Harry noted, and his stubble hadn't been shaved anytime recently. For some reason, he looked smaller, too. Maybe he was as surprised by the situation as Harry had been, but it seemed somehow different. This recoil -- the curl of a person back into themselves -- was different in tony than in Harry. Harry's was of disgust, anger, and contentment to those who were supposed to draw him out of himself. Tony was small and vulnerable because he was hurt. Hurt was evident in his eyes.
Steve and Bucky stood up as if on cue. Their chairs squeak in time with the pause of Tony a few feet from the dining room table. A silence stretched between the room. Everyone was holding their breath. Perhaps waiting for someone to leave, or scream, or cry out. Everyone was waiting for something. Harry had always hated waiting.
"Hi, Harry."
Brewing Storm
Chapter Summary
Harry talks to Tony for the first time. Things don't go as planned. Rage takes a hold of Harry and Tony's grief makes him unable to butt heads with Gryffindor rage.
"I'm Tony Stark. Uh-" Harry's gaze stays glued to his so-called father as he steps into the room. He looked about as Harry would have expected from the news, maybe a little shorter. His hair was definitely greyer, as well. Tony didn't look too much like the billionaire Harry had heard so much about. No, he looked like a fraud. "I see you made it here alright."
Harry didn't answer him. Green eyes meet chocolate brown and stay there. He was sure his anger was evident enough in the way he was looking at Tony. They didn't look anything alike. Sure, their noses were similar and he was sure he could see the same chin jutting out at him from under the beard, but, other than that, there was nothing. Harry was sure he was even taller than the dude, and he was in his fifth year!
"I know this is a little weird, but-"
"A little weird?" Harry snorts. The height difference suddenly bugged him. Here his father was, standing high and mighty, while Harry himself was sitting down like a child. Harry stood. He had been right. He was taller than Tony. Tony wasn't his father. James was his father, and James was taller than him. "Try life-changing."
"Okay, well, uh, I guess that's true." Tony's shoulders sank inwards like a man defeated. Harry didn't notice this, however, as his own chest puffed out in an attempt to make himself look larger. White-hot rage ran through him again. He felt its flow through his arms and chest, swirling deep in his gut. His heart was pounding in his ears. "This is difficult for all of us. Just calm down for a minute, yeah?"
"Oh shut up." Harry waves Tony away. "I'm done will rolling over and taking crap from others."
Because that's what he always did, wasn't it? He wasn't brave. He wasn't a Gryffindor. If he was, Cedric would still be alive. Harry's brain was overloaded, and, it seemed his overload drew him deeper into himself. It was a river of self hate adding to a fire of betrayal. That was it, then. Sirius hadn't sent him here to protect him from Voldemort. He had sent him here to protect them from Harry's own shortcomings. Cedric was the first of many to die by Harry's hand, he was sure.
"Harry, calm down." Steve places a hand on Tony's shoulder, an obvious display of support for the man. The blonde's demeanor was a lot more cutthroat than Tony, and, right now, that demeanor was all centered on Harry. "There is no need to-"
"No need to what!" Harry was acutely aware of the terrible first example he must be setting, but, at this moment, it didn't matter much to him. He could feel the anger turn to energy. This energy, his magic, bubbles along his skin. No, it slides against him like snakes ready to strike. "Freak out? Overreact? Because, believe it or not, I think I'm pretty entitled to an overreaction at this point."
"You're just overwhelmed, Harry. You'll feel better when you calm down." Bucky still sat at the table, but his body was as tense as a string pulled taut around a person's fingers. Harry didn't spare him a glance, but, he was sure he would see murderous eyes staring back at him. Bucky reminded him of Sirius, actually. He had the same half-insane look and feel about him. Harry would be scared to stand beside him; only more fearful to fight against him.
Harry's eyes stay glued to Tony. Said man looked about as defeated as Harry was sure he felt under blankets of anger. Iron man wilted under Captain America's touch, his eyes dropping to the floor. No. He wasn't wilting, he was avoiding. Of course he was. Honestly, Harry was surprised he even came down here. Surprised he even spoke to him. What was the point, anyway? Temperamental teenagers were about the last thing a rich man wants to deal with, much less one that's not even his.
"Look. I know you read the letter, so, obviously, you know more about this whole bullshit excuse of a safe haven than I do." Harry grits his teeth to keep himself from hissing the words. He takes a breath, swallows, and tries again. "My godfather seems convinced I need protection. Well, I can assure you I don't anything from you. So, you can just send me back home or wherever you feel the need to kick me. We don't have to see each other more than that."
"No, Harry, no. Don't-"
"Don't do that!" Harry hisses, slamming his hands against the wooden table. Magic rushes from his fingertips out into the wood. There was no burning, thankfully, but the energy began to buzz. "Don't pretend like you care. Why should you? I'm not your son and I never will be."
Tony had raised his hand in a dismissive way to Harry's previous words. Dark bags were apparent under his eyes, as was a deep ridden pain that would have struck a chord within Harry would he have seen any shade than red.
This hand dropped with Harry's word. Tony sighs and rubs at his temples. A dull headache had hit him then. He didn't know what to think. He lost one love and had gained the ability to find a new, deeper sort of affection on the same day. No, in the same hour. The room was spinning.
"I will not send you away." Tony's voice was a lot stronger than he thought it would ever be again. That's what he was good at, anyway. Businessmen weren't successful when they showed their weakness. "That's not gonna happen. We're all gonna calm down and talk this through, okay?"
"We won't let him send you away, Harry," Steve spoke up for the second time. His eyes were somehow softer than Tony's, a total contrast to two seconds ago. Harry wasn't sure exactly how, as he was far more scared of being thrown out a window by him than anybody else in the room.
If he could, Harry would scoff at the three older men right about now. His hands were shaking and his vision was darkening around the edges. Whisps of pure energy -- magic -- swirled around Harry's mind and fingertips like electricity through a surge. Harry hadn't felt so out of control since before he left the Dursley's. And that had been a long, long time ago.
He couldn't see, he realized. Taking off his glasses wouldn't make any sort of difference. IT was a tunnel he was looking down, and, on the other end was Sirius. His godfather. Beside him was Lupin. Both of them were frowning, their arms crossed, as they turned away from him. This wasn't for protection. It was something far more sinister. The light flickers out, and something within Harry snaps. His energy began to burn his own body. His magic was hurting him.
"Harry. Harry are you alright?" Pepper's voice sounds distant, as if she was speaking through the long tunnel. One of those you could just barely see the end of, one you would see when you were dying. That was something Harry hadn't seen before, thankfully. "Harry!"
It was more of a feeling than anything else. Harry couldn't really make out anything else, to be honest. There was a flash, of what he wasn't sure, but it hurt his every cell. Magic, probably. The rush flowed from his core out, ripping through his arms and legs and soul.
And then there was nothing.
--
First, there was darkness. It was all Harry could see and, alongside the feeling of being pushed down a very fast waterslide, made little sense. Somehow, it was familiar. Harry knew the feeling, he did, but he couldn't place it exactly.
Then there was green. It was vibrant and deep, nothing like his own eyes, and flowed through him as easily as a knife would through bone. He felt every scrap of the green current, and, yet, when the dark came back, it was not himself who had been torn apart.
It was Cedric Diggory.
Harry lifts his head already knowing what he would find. His eyes were lifeless, bare, cold, and staring right at him. Cedric's body looked perfect besides the everlasting darkness. His skin was flawlessly pale, his hair neat and gelled. Even his robes were still intact.
For a moment, the scene was frozen. Then it was not. Cedric was moving, walking, his arms limp and legs like lead. Blood flowed from his mouth. Green flowed out around his skin, turning it a sickly, unhealthy shade.
"You did this." He gasps. His voice was breathy and unused. As Harry watched, Cedric's body began to match his voice. Perfect skin peeled away, bled, wrinkled. His cold eyes disappeared, replaced by orbs of black. Maggots leaked from the sockets, falling to the ground and withering there.
Cedric stops a few feet from Harry, his cheekbones beginning to poke out from the decaying form. His hand raises, curls, and cups Harry's own cheek. Harry could feel the maggots wiggling from his fingertips and onto his own warm skin.
"You killed me."
Harry woke with a start. He sits up in a hurry, not even disoriented by the rush of dizziness it brought upon himself. He grips at his cheek, rubbing, scratching at the portion Cedric had touched. It felt like they were still there, like the maggots were still wiggling into his skin and eating him away. But his skin was perfect. It was smooth -- minus mild acne -- and strong. No maggots or decay.
Only after Harry had felt his cheek for a few moments did he let himself relax. His heart was pounding in his chest. The sweat on his hands had built up and, when he wiped them on his jeans, a drop of similar sweat dripped from his forehead. Bits of hair hung in front of his eyes, matted with his excessive sweating. The world was hazy.
Harry grasps around for his glasses, finding them on a nightstand by his bed. He slips them on, blinks, and looks around. It was a shock, to say the least, when he saw the unfamiliar room surrounding him. For a moment he was discombobulated, unsure, and scared. The warm tones of his room in the Dursley house had given away to cold greys and blues. To one side there was a full-length window overlooking a city.
"Mr. Potter, I am glad to see you awake." Harry jumped at the loud voice pressing around him. Jarvis. Stark Tower. Tony Stark. The truth sunk into his bones like a stone sinks into water. He wanted to go back to sleep, back to the decaying Cedric and haunting memories of Voldemort. They were better than dealing with this. "You seemed to have passed out from Sun Poisoning, sir. There was a power surge in the kitchens that overwhelmed your senses. I recommend you stay in bed as I notify a nurse of your awakening."
"Where am I?" Harry grumbles, rubbing at his forehead. The dull ache was still there, and his magic was low. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. Although, he wouldn't disagree with the sun poisoning thing. Sirius had dragged him across an ocean for a full day without charms or sunscreen. And he hadn't given him a potion to subdue the effects before sending him off, either. Harry was stuck with muggle remedies to an unforgiving sunburn.
He slips out of his bed easily enough. The floor was cold, frozen even, and his whole body shivered at the sensation. Usually, he wouldn't have been affected by that. He chose to blame the low magic for that. When was the last time he had lost control of his magic? It had been a long time, and never anything such as that. He hadn't ever caused a power surge. Odd.
"Mr. Potter, I would advise you to remain in bed for the time being." Jarvis almost sounded concerned for Harry's wellbeing, which he found rather laughable. A machine caring about him? Wouldn't that just be the cherry on top of a messed up day? He found himself smirking at the thought, a raw sense of joy shooting through his body.
"I'm not staying in bed, and if you don't tell me where I am I will wander around aimlessly." Harry grabs at his jeans for a moment, feeling for his wand. The slim thing was stuck in his pocket still, thankfully, and hadn't been moved or found since he had stuck it there at the Dursley's. He wasn't sure how Tony would react to finding it on his person.
Harry replays the last scene he remembers in his head. He could feel the surge and the anger, but the anger had seeped out of him as he slept. It was hard to imagine such a raw emotion on the other side of it. Tony had been right, it seemed, when he said Harry just needed to calm down. It was working against him in this sense. This, however, didn't make it any easier to take. Harry was still betrayed, he was still hurt, and he still didn't want to trust the tower he was in. Unlike Hogwarts, he didn't know anyone to help him out. Unlike Hogwarts, he wasn't being introduced to something fantastic about himself. It was the opposite, actually, when he thought about it.
"Your current is located on the third floor, closest to the kitchens. It is the guest room on Mr. Stark's floor. His room is located on the opposite side of the floor." Jarvis spoke to Harry in a reluctant -- a fake reluctant -- tone as he moved through the hallway outside of the room. It was as cold and uninviting as his room had been, with no pictures or knickknacks common to lived in homes. From what Harry could see, the floor was rather large. He couldn't even see the end of the hallway, though that may have something to do with glasses he hadn't gotten updated in, well, ever. Hermoine used to charm them to work better, but the charms never lasted through the summers. "Of course, this will not be your permanent place of residence, as both Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes are residents of this floor. Mr. Roger's old floor is currently being remodeled to your liking. It should be done within the week."
Harry nods halfheartedly in response to the robot's words. His feet scrape against the floor. Someone had taken them off of him, probably a nurse, but hadn't bothered to change his clothes. Perhaps he had hurt someone else in the room with his 'power surge'? It wouldn't be hard to hurt a muggle or two with an outburst of magic like that.
This was Harry's sudden concern. Just the thought of Pepper, the short, sweet woman with an icy exterior, having burns or marks from Harry's magic made him wince. Hell, he would feel bad if he had his Tony, Steve, or Bucky. They were superheroes. They didn't deserve to be burned by some stupid, overemotional teenager.
"Did the power surge hurt anyone?" Harry burst out with little abandon. It was hard to keep to himself with the flashes of burn marks in his eyes. Of course, they wouldn't be burn marks and wouldn't heal like burn marks, either. Harry himself would have to cast a healing spell for the marks to disappear. He wasn't very good at healing spells.
"No. The extent of damage only reached a few blocks. Electricians had the systems back up within the hour." Jarvis answered factually. Harry preferred this sort of talk with the AI. It made it a lot easier to think of him as a machine and not some magically summoned creature Tony was keeping from him. Then again, Harry knew no magic could be used in this particular tower without sending everything astray. Technology and magic didn't go together, as Harry had proven in his outburst. "If you wish to speak with Mr. Stark, there is a stairwell leading to his workspace from his room. There is no one in the direct line of travel to interfere."
"I don't want to talk to Stark yet." Harry let out the warm breath of air he had held in his lungs. Some of the tension in his body settled knowing he didn't hurt anyone with his magic. This didn't make him want to speak to them, though. Just because he felt a little less angry didn't mean he couldn't feel the rage bubbling under his skin. All he wanted to do was cast spell after spell, depleting his magic until he couldn't cast another spell without keening over. He craved the exhaustion of it. But he wouldn't get it, not here, so he would do the next best thing. "How do I get to the roof?"
Harry glances out the nearest window. It was, like in his room and the living area, a wall of glass. The sun had set over the city and lights flicker everywhere. If Harry squinted he could almost imagine them as the floating candles of the Great Hall. The illusion didn't stick, though. There wasn't enough noise behind the walls to remind him of the chaos of mealtimes.
"The elevator behind you should take you to the highest floor. The staircase leads you to the roof." Jarvis answers. Harry quickly turns on his heel, making long strides towards the elevator. It was almost invisible against the grey wall. The only thing that set it apart from the rest of the space was the slick shine of metal. "I would recommend grabbing a jacket, Mr. Potter. The temperature is expected to dip below-"
"Can it." Harry snaps at the AI. He didn't want to listen to the stupid disembodied voice anymore. In fact, he didn't want to listen to much of anything anymore. He presses the highest floor available on the elevator and steps back against the cool metal of its interior. The cold seemed even more so against his sunburned skin. Where blisters had formed -- he could see small ones on the back of his hands -- pain shoots up. Harry didn't even pay them any mind. His scar hurt worse than that when it flared up.
The elevator door opens, then, showing the dark, dreary staircase Pepper had walked him down on their way to the kitchen. Harry pushes off the wall of the elevator and starts walking. That's all he could do, anyway.
Who Is Harry Potter
Chapter Summary
Harry likes New York. He doesn't like to admit it, but he really does. Clint finds he likes Harry, too. Steve and Bucky consider what to do with Tony. Natasha saves them both.
Chapter Notes
Okay so this chapter is kinda boring I apologize. I couldn't get the Clint and Harry scene from my head and decided it had to go in. Anyway, enjoy!
Also, just a heads up, I had planned for this story to be rather short and sweet. The more I plan and fall in love with the plotline, the more intense and angst it gets. Be ready for a much, much longer story than I had initially planned. And Loki? And a sprinkle of Dr. Strange? This storyline is becoming one of the more crackhead ones I've written, but I've fallen in love with every aspect of it.
New York City was as breathtaking as the last time he had seen it. Actually, it was even more so. Night had fallen over the city, and, in return, the lights of the streets had flickered on. Cars still zoomed. People still laughed. But somehow, someway, it was better than before. Harry wanted to join them. He wanted to stand up, jump down, and walk amongst the strangers. It would be much like traveling to Diagon Ally or Hogsmeade, the best parts of his existence as of date, with the added bonus of no one staring him down as he walked.
Of course, that wasn't going to happen. The city was too far away and Harry himself was too tired to attempt walking down there. All those people pressed close to his sides would set his claustrophobia off. Or his anxiety. Or all the other mental illness ignored by pages of story. It was best for him to stay here, high in the sky, feeling the cold breeze of the towertop; leave all the social aspects to someone else.
The cold actually helped a lot, if he was being honest. There was something about the breeze against his overheated skin that soothed him. Almost like Aloe or a charm Hermoine would throw at him right about now if she were here. He could see it now; Hermoine fussing over his red-tinted skin like Molly does over Ron's, like the mother Harry never had.
"Hermoine." Harry feels the breathy laugh leave his lips at the name. The girl, his friend, was so far removed from his current worldview that it was hard to imagine her beside him. What she would say, what she would do, are all irrelevant to the picture so far removed from her world. For a moment he wonders exactly what Hermoine is up to. Probably reading too many books, or digging into the Order Harry wasn't allowed to know anything about. Because, of course, he was too fragile to know about it.
Anger rips through him once more. The wind, however, seems to take it with it as it flows through Harry's hair. It is white-hot, all-consuming, and all present. He looks down at his hands, stretches them, curls them. His feet dangle off the edge of the building. So close to the edge, yet so far from it. Fear of heights or falling scared off most from spaces like this. Harry could bend forward a little, nod his head, even, and see down so far his vision goes blurry. After what he's been through, it was nothing. He looks down at the ground and feels calming numbness.
Isn't that what he wanted? Why he was up so high alone instead of facing the new information thrown at him? Harry wants to be numb because the anger and the hurt and the sadness was too hard to bear. Numb was safe, it was cold, and it was removed. People didn't lose their minds when they were numb. People didn't have to deal with all the hurt when they let themselves give into the nothing. Facing emotions bigger than himself wasn't worth it at the moment. Facing them in a new country, with a new father, with new guilt, didn't do much help.
Whenever he thought too hard about things he could feel the swirl of uncertainty within himself. It was almost like the nausea one felt when a heavy smoker blew into their face. The feeling made him squirm and fight to get away from those thoughts. At the same time, Harry knew he had to face them sometime. Right now wasn't the time. Or perhaps it was? There was a good chance he wouldn't be alone for long with the bodyguard in every wall and a tower full of superheroes.
Wasn't that bizarre. Harry Potter, boy-who-lived, living with the Avengers. Even weirder, Harry Potter, son of Tony Stark. Harry Stark. The name made him cringe. The DNA test may prove his relationship with Stark, but he would never take the name on himself. James Potter was his father. He always had been and he always will be, regardless of whatever is going on with Tony Stark. James and Lily were soulmates, Harry had seen pictures. James was his father.
Or was he? One of the main inner monologues against Tony is how little he knows about Harry. Tony wasn't his father because he had never filled that role. He hadn't cleaned up after him or sent him off to school for the first time. He hadn't helped him walk or watched him grow. Tony hadn't ever filled the dad meter; James never had the chance to step up to it. Both men didn't know Harry. James was gone, always would be, and would never know Harry. Tony never knew harry, but he could. He pushes the thought down. It was a hard thing to debate, because it showed the almost desperate need for Tony to fill that role. Sirius couldn't, no one could, besides maybe Tony. If Harry let him. Would he let him?
Harry finds himself rubbing at his wrist, and lets his eyes drop to the words. Another aspect of himself that edges on an issue. Those words. Those words. He had always pushed them to the back of his mind, out of his existance, for it wasn't something worth dwelling on. From the moment they first showed up they had only caused trouble. Dudley had hated them, for he hadn't had his. Vernon forced him to cover it with a band. Petunia and his uncle weren't soulmates, neither of them had one, and the very thought of their freak nephew having one boiled their blood. Then, it had been Hogwarts. Ron and himself had obsessed over their words in their down time. Ron had vividly expressed how he wanted to meet his, how they would look, and how their lives would play out. He roped Harry into imagining most of the time, too. Then Quirrell had happened and they were too busy fighting for their lives. Second, third, and fourth year had shown to be as deadly as their first. So Harry had forgotten about them. There were far more important things to deal with in his life. Now was no different, yet the words seemed to draw his eyes tonight.
"He was my dad first! You can't have him!" Ron had laughed when he first saw the chicken scratch written on his arm. Hermoine had offered Harry a sympathetic smile and rubbed his arm. It didn't make any sense at the time. Harry's dad was dead, had been dead, and would always be dead. The trio had chalked it up to some sick joke of fate and left it there. Now the words chilled him to the core. His soulmate was here, wasn't he? (Because it was male, Harry was sure of that.) Harry Potter would meet the man who's writing stretched across his skin in New York City. He would meet the love of his life in a completely different country.
That brought a whole new slew of thoughts with it. What about Hogwarts? Sirius and Lupin had been so caught up in getting here they hadn't considered how to get back. Tony would try and send him to school when the time rolled around if he didn't get a letter. How would they even find him here? He scratched that as soon of he thought of it, remembering the way Hagrid had burst into the cottage in the middle of the ocean. They would find him. That didn't get rid of all his worries. Sirius and Lupin hadn't thought this whole thing through.
Another thought to push aside. They add up quick. With each new swirling idea, Harry's heart sped up a little more. It beats against his chest like a child against a safety lock. So many unknowns. So many things he couldn't control. It made him feel worthless.
Harry Potter felt small. He had always felt small, in some way. Even from the very beginning he had been lesser than others. Sure, people saw him and knew his features, but underneath he was much less than they seemed to think. Ron and Hermoine were the only ones who saw Harry for Harry. Now, in the middle of a new country, there wasn't even his friends to stick to. There was no Hermoine to fix his glasses and explain the magic outburst. There was no Ron to make him laugh and point out all the hot Avenger ladies walking around. There was only him. No one else. He was small. He is small. When would he ever be anything more than a dumb kid thinking he has everything figured out?
"Kinda close to the edge there, kid." The voice was enough to startle Harry out of his spiral. Which was probably a good thing, considering he had been gripping the cement edge of Stark tower harsh enough to turn his knuckles white. Harry snaps his head up to meet, well, he wasn't sure, actually. The Tony Stark he had expected was nowhere to be found. Not even Steve or Bucky had wandered up here. This wasn't anyone related to Harry in some odd fashion.
"You're Hawkeye." Wasn't exactly the best introduction, but it was what came to mind and, in the end, what he blurted out of his big mouth before he could stop himself. The reaction was instantaneous. The man seemed to relax, shift into something he knew a little better. Hawkeye became, for lack of a better description, what Harry had always seen on TV.
"Yeah. Yeah, I am, but you can call me Clint." Hawkeye grabs onto the railing of the roof. Much like Harry had an hour or two — or three — ago, he climbed over the flimsy thing. He landed in a graceful manner beside Harry and, with a small smirk in the wizard's direction, slid into a sitting position beside him. His legs hang over the edge much as Harry's were. They swing in the wind, hitting against the metal here and there. "I'm assuming you're the new member? Harry Potter, is it?"
"That's me." Harry answers. He slips his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Hawkeye was a lot different than he expected. For one, he looked older. That was a reoccurring theme with these Avengers. Everyone looked worse for wear face to face. He had to wonder if it was their age or the stress of their jobs. Most likely, it was a bit of both.
Hawkeye nods in acknowledgment of Harry's answer. He was, much like Harry, looking around the skyline of the city. From so high up it was magnificent. The lights reflected off neighboring buildings and shot up into the sky in light shows of neon color. They stare down upon the light show, watching the rave of various lights beam and sway below. It was one of the most magical muggle sights Harry had seen in a long time.
"Why are you here? Well, why do you think you're here?" Clint tilts his head to look down at Harry. Sure, he had read the letter — without Tony's knowledge, Nat and himself had snuck in and stolen it at soon as they had come back to an upset Tony and a fucked up kitchen — but that didn't mean anything to Harry himself. His godfather's wish to keep him safe was wasted if Harry didn't agree with the need to. Or if he ran off in the middle of the day.
Clint felt bad for Harry, anyway. Lily Evans had been proclaimed dead years ago, it seemed. Which meant Harry himself had lived without them for a long time. He himself remembers that. Those dark years stuffed away in an orphanage before he ran away to his own bout of freedom. Harry might not have been locked in an orphanage, but something in him told him there was some sort of shared thread of darkness in their childhoods. So he would cling to that. Maybe even bring the kid back from the edge of Stark tower to Tony.
"Everyone thinks I'm weak." Harry grits his teeth at the memory of it. It was more of a look, a downturned eye, and a soft smile, that gave away how he felt. It was a pity. Sirius pitied Harry for what he had gone through. As did Lupin. The two of them wouldn't dare let Harry get hurt, which left him out of the loop and annoyed with their opinion of him. And with the Dursley's. Dudley had drove him half-mad in the sweltering heat of the summer days. It almost made him miss Snape's potion classes. "And instead of letting me prove my strength, they send me here."
"Maybe he doesn't think you're weak. He's just afraid he's not strong enough to keep you safe." Clint pulls one of his legs up to his chest, resting his hands on top of it. His eyes focus down on Harry. The kid looked dejected and crestfallen. Crazy strands of hair fall everywhere around him. Some of them don't even fall, instead stick straight up in the air. In the pale cast of the moon, Harry looked too skinny. Clint himself had gone far too long without proper food before. He knew what it looked like. Harry didn't look too much better than he had so long ago. "Family gets that way sometimes."
"He can't shelter me forever." Came Harry's reply. And he knew it to be true, both men did. Clint, of course, wasn't aware of the full extent. In a way, neither was Harry. Voldemort was a constant looming threat Harry didn't know the full extent of. The crazed man wanted him dead, that's all he knew. Now that he was back there was no stopping him. He would do what he would do, and it wouldn't only affect Harry's headaches or a few Death Eaters. Voldemort would hurt a lot of people. And what was Harry doing? Sitting on the edge of a tower miles away from the action he was responsible for. Deaths that would hang over his head.
Cedric flashes through his mind, then. All golden hair and warm smiles. Warm embraces and stolen moments between the two. Harry remembers the yellow of his scarf, the warmth of his hand held against his, and, in the end, the loss of the soul behind it all. Cedric died because Harry wasn't there to save him. If he wasn't there now, when the dark lord was raging in power, how many more would die?
Tears of frustration prickled in the back of his eyes. His cheeks had probably gone splotchy at the reminder of his deep-set anger; his core burned with magic alongside it. Once again he felt helpless. It was a large hole in his chest, a hole of every color within him that threatened to eat him up inside if he didn't find grounding soon. Where was the ground? In England alongside Ron and Hermoine and the rest of his Hogwarts family. He wanted to feel the grass again. At this point, he didn't care if he had to stare Voldemort in the eye. Harry would stand right beside him to protect the people he cared about, to protect the wizarding world.
"Your godfather just wants to remove you from a dangerous situation, Harry. It's a natural reaction." Clint bumps Harry's shoulder to get his attention. When he does, he frowns at the obvious evidence of anger. Well, it was something more. The sight of Harry's face all twisted and tense struck a cord deeper than anger. No, Harry wasn't angry. Harry was overwhelmed. Worse than angry, as it led to disastrous decision making. "He doesn't want you hurt."
"You can't remove the person who created a dangerous situation from the dangerous situation!" Harry flares up at Clint. His hands shake at his sides to the point he balls them up to hide the stutter. "I should be there dealing with what I started! Instead of hiding behind some big shot superheroes who think they have any chance against that!"
Harry's words left Clint speechless for a moment. Guilt. Harry felt guilty. About what, he wasn't sure. It reminded him a lot of Tony, actually. Perhaps a deep hatred of one's self ran in the family? God, he hoped not. Tony tore himself up about the simplest things and he was an adult with the mental stability to handle it. Harry was not as well adapted to it. The way he made it seem, there was something sinister lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce.
"And how did you cause such a dangerous situation?" Was about the only thing Clint could manage to push past his lips. It was a stupid question. Harry wasn't going to answer it. At least it startled the teenager long enough for him to falter in his verbal attack. The boy seemed to retreat to his own mind, bend back into the neutral position he had been in, and contemplate.
"Do you ever feel like you don't get to choose who you are?" Harry speaks, his head snapping away from Clint as he does. His tone gives away more than the anger had. Something was breaking in the boy, something deep and meaningful. Whatever he said next, Clint knew it would stick with Harry.
"Sometimes life makes it seem like it has everything planned out for you before you even walk the path." Clint nods at his own words. It was true. He had felt that way before, usually when he was holding his bow towards an enemy, deciding if he should shoot or run away. Things became heavy in his line of work. People died, and a lot of the time he was to blame. But, he can't walk away. Knowing that almost made it seem like he couldn't; like if he tried he would hit a wall and there wouldn't be anything past it because he was Hawkeye, and that's all he ever would be. Sometimes it took a little sit down to remind himself his name was not himself. "But life likes mischief. It likes to trick you into thinking that way. Let me tell you, it's not true. Just because you are Harry Potter doesn't mean you have to do what everyone else says you have to. A name does not make a person."
Silence meets Clint's words. It stretches on for a moment, filled with the ambiance of a (not) sleeping New York. Clint decides he rather likes this place. Windows and the thick metal walls of the tower cut out the noise part of the city while inside. It was almost laughable, actually, how much he looked out at the city without actually experiencing it. Up on top of the whole structure, it was different. The wind hit his skin and reminded him he was here, not anywhere else. He guessed that's why Harry decided to come back here. Or he was like Clint and liked high places. Either way, Clint could feel his heart reach out to the kid. Harry had won his favor, at least. And not because he had his legs dangling from a very unsafe height.
"How do you save the people you love?" Harry would continue to surprise Clint, it seemed. The question took him a moment, actually. He looks over at the teen for about the millionth time, questioning the actual age of his mind. Kids at his age shouldn't be worried about that sort of thing. Harry should be fussing over his hair and girls, not asking some old failed hero how to protect people. Once again, Clint saw himself in Harry.
"You can't save everyone," Was all Clint said in reply, and the conversation once again lulled away into silence.
—
The scene Natasha walks into isn't one she expects. Following the new ounce of knowledge she had gained, the spy was expecting a lot of things. Her mind had shifted to images of Tony bent over the counter, hands on his head, Steve and Bucky bent around him like a barrier around a fragile being. Their souls would cover Tony's from the world. Not even Natasha, a trained killer, would be able to pull the two from their soulmate. If it wasn't that, she had expected him to be sitting at the counter, coffee mug in hand, leg bouncing in an anxious manner as Steve and Bucky conversed. Tony would throw out sassy remarks to the soldier's words and everyone would ignore- ignore for a very long time.
Tony came with avoidance. It was the name of his game. This virtue was matched by most of the Avengers, as their jobs had taught them long ago; do not dwell on things you can't fix. To mention, to point, to acknowledge, is to dwell. Harry Potter was the big fat red X over the tower on this day. So, Natasha had expected to walk in on a scene that immediately rectified itself. Tony's eyes would look up at her with their teary overlay and she would pretend she didn't see it. Steve would hand her a coffee, she would complain about shield, and the four of them wouldn't mention it besides using softer tones with Iron Man. And things would fix themselves in due time.
This didn't happen.
Natasha did not expect to walk in on Steve and Bucky in the middle of the living room alone. They stood by the window, their mouths moving in rapid movement as they whispered back and forth. Bucky had his arm wrapped around Steve's side, the metal plates of his hand rubbing small circles into the area of his soulmate's hip. This small act of affection was enough to throw anyone for a loop; Bucky didn't hand them out easy. Steve's reaction to it was another dead give away. The super soldier was as tense as a rope, something she saw often on the field but rarely showed itself within the walls of the tower. The scene had broken. It was missing. Someone wasn't where they were supposed to be.
"Where's Tony?" Was the first thing Natasha thought to say. Both super soldiers seemed surprised by her appearance; their posture faltering and breaking out of the bubble they had engulfed themselves in. Natasha watches Steve's eyes linger for a moment on Bucky. She sees Bucky's pursed lips as he shifts his gaze to her. The undertones told her all she needed to know.
"Well, there's been some-"
"I already know about Harry." Natasha doesn't waste any time with faking her knowledge. If she needed, she would defend her position later, which usually included reminding Tony about her past until he finally threw his hands in the air and gave her access to what she wanted to know. After all, she was arguing to be nice; she was still a spy. "And before you start with the security measures, I don't want to hear it. I'm assuming Tony took it worse than I expected?"
"Yes," Bucky answered the question. It was hard to say it surprised her. His history had left him more morally grey than his counterpart. Or, it was that Steve was so morally not-grey he seemed almost devious in comparison. If Bucky looked devious next to Steve, what was Natasha? Standing next to Steve, she had climbed straight from hell. Either way, she got the answer she wanted. He steps forward, past the gawking Steve, and squares his shoulders as if in rebellion. "As soon as they took care of Harry he locked himself in the lab. Jarvis won't let us in."
"Taken care of? Did he get hurt?" The concern in her voice was obvious, though, she didn't have much of a reason to care for Harry himself. Its angle was more Tony based. If Tony felt guilt, he would shut down, which would lead to little food, which would lead to weak Tony, which would lead to relapse Tony. It was better for Tony if Harry hadn't been hurt by his hand. Natasha wasn't sure what she would do if this was the case.
"No, no, nothing like that." Bucky shakes his head as he speaks. Hair falls out of place from his ear, pushed there by Steve no doubt, into his face. Heavy lines of concern run through his eyebrows and his forehead. The gears were turning in his head. "There was a power surge and Harry collapsed. We think it's from the exhaustion and dehydration from his journey here. He's fine, but he needs rest."
That took one concern of hers away. Natasha felt more than got her shoulders to relax into their neutral position. Already she was rethinking her approach. It was pretty touch and go with Tony when faced with things such as this. Though, she had to admit he had gotten better the past few months. Avenger team projects had helped with the opening up of all of them. Tony included. They were more of a family now than they had ever been. Natasha could see how that affected Tony. Steve and Bucky were amazing, they helped him through a lot, but a whole family? Tony felt complete with the Avengers. This sort of security had fought off most of the bouts of inconsideration to his own health. The last time he had closed the lab to them had to have been a few months ago. Rare, but not unheard of.
"I'm going to ignore how you got your hands on personal information for the sake of my soulmate." Steve mumbles to himself, his own face twisted into a poor mockery of disappointment towards Natasha. It was ineffective, as his glares often were. The blonde soldier then stuffs his hands in his pockets. He had given in, at least. There wouldn't be a block of human muscle standing between her and Tony. "We need to go check on Harry before we do anything else. I don't want him waking up all alone."
"He's already awake. Clint's with him." Natasha shoots back at him. At the glare, She shrugs. "What? He was up on the roof and the only one of us willing to climb that close to the edge is Clint. I don't like heights after- well, you know."
She turns away from them at that, her eyes set on the elevator on the other end of the floor. Steve and Bucky fall into step behind her. Or, at least, she assumes they do. Their footsteps echo around them. The footfalls bounce from the metal and flat surfaces with a high, almost annoying pitch. Beside the tapping of their footfalls, it was silent. This was unnatural on this floor. Natasha had come to like the quiet music Tony had always played. This hadn't always been the case. She had manipulated the speaker a few times when she first joined the tower. Quiet was much better for her, or so she thought at the time, and would rather get on Tony's bad side than talk to him about it. Eventually the stupid music he played while existing on the common floor grew on her to the point she found herself turning on the radio when she was baking.
The elevator have a ding before Natasha even reached it. She would have assumed Jarvis if the AI had spoken to them. As it stood, there was a very low chance it had been the helpful bug. Wherever he was it wasn't with them.
What met her eyes almost made Natasha stop dead in her tracks. Clint was nothing new, minus the new scar he sported from their new mission, but Harry was something else. To put it nice and simple, he was, well, Tony. The teen was a little shorter and much skinner — Nat is reminded of one of Tony's early bouts. His hair is a little longer and far rougher, almost as if he had scrubbed it with soup instead of nourishing shampoo. Facial structure was pretty much familiar to her, matching Tony's to a T. What got her were the eyes. Harry looked at her and she was transported; green fields with a warm sun, algae understanding water in the middle of a valley. There were worlds within this child's eyes. Strength within his mind. Natasha could also sense the grief like a wave of her own. Harry was a Stark, that much was certain.
"Nat! Good timing, I just got done dragging the kid down." Clint's grin was bordering on shit-eating. If she could she would slap it right off his face and tell him to shut his mouth. Though, there was nothing she could do. Even his crude words made her heart warm with the nearness of her soulmate. The voice made her words tingle with the familiar tilt to it. Any anger she felt at the wording washed away with this, added by the way Harry didn't seem to mind the talk.
"I'm not a kid," Was all he said in response to Clint. It wasn't stressed or force, giving the effect of nonchalance. Harry said it more out of habit, if she had to guess, than anything else. He may not even notice he was saying it. His eyes were glued to her, so she may not even pay mind. His eyes glint with youthful curiosity. Natasha had seen that look before in the eyes of the children who pull on her sleeve and ask for an autograph. Though, he didn't seem to have the same reaction to the others. Was Black Widow his favorite? That would be rather ironic. "Black Widow? You're Fred's favorite."
Natasha smiles at the excitement within his tone. Jarvis had described the boy to them in small chunks when they asked about him. In that description, Jarvis had only said negative things. The machine didn't seem to think too highly of him, which was highlighted in the description of his irrational anger and needless grief directed at Tony. She had half expected some pompous, self-centered ass to walk through the door. Harry seemed, for lack of a better word, perfect.
"I would love to sign an autograph if you wish?" Harry shakes his head, his demeanor shifting as she watched. The shift wasn't that big, more of a small twitch of his lip and wince. Something had changed, but he was pushing it down and away. It was an odd shift of dynamic that confused her for a moment. Then she realized; it's not her and Harry, it is Steve, Bucky, and Harry.
He's scared of them. This, for one, wasn't that surprising. They were both intimidating, especially if you only saw them on the TV. She couldn't imagine how he thought of them. The more she thought about it, the more she began to see the burning problem here. Harry couldn't be a part of their team -- their family -- until he realized he belonged, because she could already see that he did. The kid had this energy about him. Sirius's letter, the contents of his parent's death, made her sure that he was meant to be here. And protecting him? Seemed like something a Stark would need.
Natasha purses her lips, a plan already unfolding in her mind. That was something she was good at. Being a spy for so long taught you a few things; knowing how to think on your feet was one of them. She uncrosses her arms, loosens her position she had fallen into, and grabs Bucky's wrist. The soldier flinches, but, after realizing who had a hold of him, allows himself to be dragged along by the redhead. Which, she did drag him along. Steve was much better equipped to deal with Harry as he was now. Let the softer, more father-ish of the two soldiers deal with the teen for now. Once Steve had convinced Harry they were nothing to fear, she would get to work making Bucky a regular part of his day. For now? Work on making Harry comfortable.
"Clint, come on. Tony needs us in the lab." She rushes past Harry, offering the teen a small smile as she does. He wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were glued ahead, and, if she hadn't forced Clint out from in front of him, he wouldn't have noticed her at all. When Clint was ripped away he seemed to curl even further in on himself. For a moment he seemed fragile, like a small child Natasha wanted to hold close and protect. Then, right in front of her eyes, Harry Potter put up a strong front. His shoulders squared, his chin lifted, and his striking green eyes met Steve's. This only made her want to hug him harder. What kind of kid was that good at faking bravery? "Watch the kid for us, Rogers."
Natasha pushes the two men in the elevator before her and slips between them as the doors begin to close. The last image she sees as it clicks closed is Harry's shaking fists by his side, and the fighting stance that reminded her too vividly of the one Tony used when he walked into a mission he didn't think he would walk out of.
Who is Harry Potter?
I am a Stark
Chapter Summary
Natasha speaks to Tony. Steve speaks to Harry.
As soon as the door closes Natasha feels her shoulders slouch. She leans back against the elevator wall, feeling the chill of it radiate throughout her skin,sending small prickles through her body. One would find it annoying if it were not the only thing keeping her from wondering from the present moment.
"What are we doing?" Clint asks, looking away from where he had been staring a few seconds before. There was an odd atmosphere in the elevator. Between Natasha, Clint, and Bucky, a dark aura had filled up the empty space of the elevator. Their conjoined mood sucked any residual happiness from the area.
"Tony. He's not taking the whole, ya know-" Bucky jerks his head in the direction of the closed door. Parts of his hair had come undone from his ponytail by now. The stray pieces fall in front of his eyes giving him a crazy look. he looked as if he had strolled right in from the forest if forest people had grief sludging up their bodies.
Crazy? That wasn't the right word. Natasha kicks herself for using it. Bucky wasn't crazy. He never had been, even all those years locked away killing people didn't make him crazy. Bucky Barnes is broken. If he were anywhere else with anyone else it would be obvious. The night terrors that sent him to the kitchen in search of milk, the way his eyes shift everywhere when he walks into a room, the way he sometimes breaks cups when he gets too far into his mind. These things would raise warnings in most people's radars. They -- the Avengers -- were not most people. Natasha often found him in the kitchen when she went after a night terror, Clint walking behind her. Or vice versa, if she was being honest. Natasha did the shifty eye thing, too. Most of the time their eyes would meet in the middle of it. They would either laugh it off or give each other thin-lined smiles. Whichever fit the mood.
Bucky Barnes fit in here. Steve fit in here. Tony fit in here. Everyone here was normal in their own right. And everyone else was abnormal enough not to notice anything different. The avenger tower had long since been a place of oddballs and those broken down by time and duty. For some, their own destiny had led them here. And they fit into the steel walls as of they had always lived there.
Harry Potter struck Natasha as one who would slide right into their lives. Now, it's a big assumption. Saying someone is as messed up as adults who have been through literal hell more than once in their lives is a stretch. But there was something there; a glimmer to his eye and tension in his muscles that made Natasha melt. Melt the same way she does when Tony's eyes are so swollen from the strain he feels pain when he blinks. Melts the same she melts when Bucky crawls into bed with her and Clint whenever Steve and Tony are away on a mission. Melts the way she melts when Bruce hurts someone with the other guy and breaks down right in front of them all. One look in Harry's eyes and she had felt the same instinctual need to protect; to make Harry's life better.
Clint had fallen silent after Bucky spoke, tension evident in his stance. He looked about ready to pounce, which was common to see on a mission. When his eyes shifted to the vent on the top of the elevator, she knew Clint was trying his best not to make a run for it. His job was over, though, wasn't it? He had brought Harry down from the roof following Natasha's panic at his absence and Tony's depressed state. Clint had jumped at the chance to go talk him down from it, and they had agreed to tag-team the situation. As Natasha had always been better with Tony, it wasn't hard to decide which way for them to go.
Now Natasha was worried the conversation hadn't settled her soulmate's nerves.
"How's Harry doing?" Her words reverberated in the small area, seeming much louder than they had to leave her lips. Clint and Bucky both jump, which either points to their PTSD or their aloofness. With everything going on she would guess the ladder.
"Hm?" Clint answered in the tone of someone who hadn't processed a thing anyone had said to him in the past few moments.
"How's Harry doing?" Natasha repeats herself. A whole process unfolds in front of her eyes; Clint tenses, his jawline poking out before he curls into himself before he relaxes everything except the furrowed eyebrows he wore. The seconds they follow are as silent as they had been before, but two eyes were watching Clint like hawks.
"I worry he didn't have the best home life." Clint rubs the back of his neck. His eyes were downcast; refusing to meet Natasha eye to eye, she knew. It was common for her soulmate to show more emotions than he would have preferred in the first place when close to her. Sometimes he avoided her because it was easier to hide. This often ended up with Clint's face down on the mat, Natasha's angry figure looming above him. "We all saw how skinny he was. And if his godfather wanted to send him away from his aunt and uncle-"
"So he was abused?" Bucky all but growls out, his eyes flaring in the bright light of the elevator.
"Neglected, more like." Clint nods in Bucky's direction, a sort of agreement of anger between the two. The information sent a wave of white-hot anger through Natasha, as well. Her hands curled into fists. The nails she hadn't had time to file dig into her callused palms. It didn't defer the pressure she pushed down on them with. "His aunt and uncle seemed like angry people. The kind that is only upset he's gone because they didn't figure it out sooner. But there's something else."
Clint pauses, looks between Natasha and Bucky, before returning to his slouched position. The staring contest with the elevator floor didn't pause, either. His words go straight to the steel and bounce. The echo turns the simple words into more of a doomed speech, one you hear before a villain punches you out of battle. This didn't help the growing feeling of "I need to punch some Harry Potter family ass" in each of their stomachs.
"I think they weren't what his godfather was making him run from," Clint whispers. This had switched over into lesser-known fact territory. He was less sure of his words, now, and further slouched into himself. He was also more disturbed by them. "Harry mentioned not being able to save those he loved. And it wasn't like some normal teenage stuff. It felt more like- more like he had already failed. Like he didn't want to fail again."
Natasha and Bucky fall silent, each of them running through the words in their own minds. Once more the tension in the elevator seemed to further rise. Anger feels away to contemplation, and then, finally, remorse for their newest member. His eyes flash through Natasha's mind, all green and wide and vulnerable under the blaring light of Stark tower. He was a kid. An actual, real teenager. They may not know all that much about teens in Stark tower, but they had seen them around. Teenagers were carefree, smiling all the time without serious care or worries to bog them down.
Before any of them could fall too far into their own minds, the door of the elevator slides open to a long, dim hallway. It seemed even darker than usual with the large steel covers lowered over the windows. Tony had set his lab into lockdown. Jarvis had dropped the privacy curtain at Tony's command, leaving the inventor locked inside of the small area on his lonesome. Music leaked out of the glass panes loud and clear; AC DC shreaking through the cracks in the metal.
"I have unlocked the doors for you, Mrs. Romanoff." Jarvis's voice broke out over the ceiling. It was almost overcome by the music, but the group could make out the words as they started towards said doors. His voice held a hint of urgency, a dab of worry, that made Natasha's steps speed up and lengthen. Tony needed her. If Jarvis was this worried, he really needed her. "I recommend you keep the company to yourself and Mr. Barnes. Tony is not in the best of moods at the present moment."
"Wow, thanks, Jarvis," Clint calls out, a fake snarl placed on his lips. The emotion didn't hold, and he fell behind Natahs and Bucky as they reached the doors. Some things were more important than himself, he knew, and Tony was one of those. He was a difficult nut to crack with few soft spots for others. Natasha and Bucky were the two he would listen to. If Clint went as well it could ruin the whole plan.
"I mean no offense. This is a matter of increasing importance, as Mr. Potter's emotional state is highly dependent on how Tony handles their next meeting." Jarvis explains in about the same tone as he had before. As he speaks, there is a click of a lock. The blinds over the doors slide up, revealing the small area of the lab they could see from it. Unfortunately, it was aimed at Bruce's side of the lab, something the millionaire had planned. They could get little from this angle.
"Wait here, Clint. Harry and Steve need to be alone, too." Natasha shoots a look at her soulmate, her eyes harsh in the glare of the bright light. Clint meets her eyes with a halfhearted smile and hands crossed over his middle.
"Love you, Nat."
"I love you too, Clint. Be good." Natasha gives her soulmate one last nod before turning to the door.
Bucky seemed glued to the door, ready to burst it open and run for Tony, but Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder when he made a move to do so. He snaps his head to her, glaring at the hand on his shoulder. It does him no good. "Let me do the talking."
"Fair enough. Can we go now?" Bucky reminded Natasha of an impatient child when it concerned Tony, which was only emphasized by the shifting feet motion he was currently sporting. Brown eyes stare directly at Natasha. Within them, both impatience and respect for the woman telling him what to do show themselves. He really would wait for her to go ahead.
Natasha does not answer him, instead, she reaches forward and pushes the door open herself. The reaction was instant; Bucky rushes forward, twisting his head until he spots Tony, and disappears from Natasha's line of sight. The music was much louder than it had been with the doors closed, so she couldn't hear if any words were exchanged from the two before she herself stepped into the room.
Tony, as she had suspected, leaned over some sort of project. It looked like a replacement arm for Bucky, but was in such an early stage of development she couldn't say with certainty if it was or not. Either way, their Tony was bent halfway over a table; screwdriver in one hand and a tablet in the other. He wasn't sitting, to add to it, which pointed to the nervous energy he felt crawling under his skin like an itch he couldn't scratch. There was no telling how long he had twisted himself in the same way, eyes glaring at the same piece of equipment without pause.
Now, Bucky wraps his arms around the inventor. His body covers the entirety of Tony's, curling around the smaller frame and eating at the edges of his being. Against the supersoldier, Tony looked small and frail. There was no argument -- there couldn't be -- as Tony's body was straightened by Bucky. He wrenched the tools out of Tony's hands, pulled him a few feet from the table, and plopped down in the sofa already filled with remnants of both Steve and Bucky. The music covered Tony's reaction, but Natasha could only imagine.
It was hard to hear over the too-loud music. Thankfully, Jarvis seemed to pick up on this before she could mention it, as the volume started to lower before it cut out completely. There was a buzz left behind, the same you hear when a loud sound comes and goes, but, other than that, it was silent. Tony fills the silence with his protests.
"Look, Buck, you know I love being manhandled but this is the lab." Tony has both hands wrapped around the larger ones grabbing onto his middle. The position he was forced into was almost laughable; the genius Tony Stark pushed between Bucky Barnes legs, on his lap, on a sofa too fluffy and oversized to be completely normal. Once again, he looked small. His shoulders had nothing on the supersoldiers, and fit against the curl of the man. "How many times must I remind you of this, hm?"
"It's a little different, Tony," Bucky grumbles in his normal minimalist style. He always worked better with a light amount of words, and now was no different. Tony scoffs at his response and snarks back at his soulmate. It did no use, as Bucky had already turned his head into the smaller man's neck, disappearing into it. The effect was immediate; Tony relaxes into the lazy affection, his hands more wrapping around Bucky than trying to claw them off of his skin.
"I'm going to kick you out of my lab." Tony offers halfheartedly. This earns a laugh from his soulmate, which rumbled his chest and further melted Tony into putty under his hold. "You think I'm joking? I'm Tony Stark, do not underestimate me."
"You can't hide in here forever, Tony." Two pairs of eyes land on Natasha, the one who had spoken. She leans against one of the many crowded tables with arms crossed and a small frown on her lips. A softness had fallen over Tony in the arms of Buck, but her words seemed to strip him of the small graces. In an instant it was back to harsh Tony; his eyes harden and he almost shuts down. Natasha wouldn't let him do that, not now, not when someone else was so reliant on him. Everyone here knew Tony could do this except for Tony himself. They needed to give him a push before it was too late. "Harry needs you."
Tony shifts in Bucky's lap. with pursed lips. He couldn't meet Natasha in the eye, instead looks down at his hands. They were calloused, hard, and Tony picked at some of the spots left behind from the work. His nails were short enough for it to be a challenge, but that didn't matter much. It was a distraction.
"I know." He finally speaks. It was a small voice, a quiet tone, matching the sort of persona he had taken to while sat in Bucky's lap. Like he was small. Like he was a child held in the arms of their parents. Natasha had only seen Tony like this a handful of times, most of them in the darkest parts of their careers together. This part of him was usually locked deep in a box and stuffed to the back part of his soul. For it to be on display was a statement for his own unease. "Just- I just- After the whole thing with the letter and Lily, I don't know what to do. How am I supposed to be there for him? He doesn't want to be here and I don't know how to make him feel comfortable about it."
"That's simple, Tony. You bring him into the circle. Make him understand that he's not that different from the rest of us." Natasha holds out her hand, looking over the nails that were long broken. Missions always ended in broken nails. This time one had snapped and bled in the middle of battle. Not very noteworthy while on the field, but rather disappointing when she's back at the tower. "Harry's a lot more mature than most boys his age. I'd reckon it's better to treat him like an adult than a child or a teenager. Treat him like Peter."
"Harry's different. He's my- He's not used to me. And he's not part of the Avengers. He doesn't look up to me like Peter does." Tony rubs at his temples. A headache had set in soon after the explosion and had yet to dissipate. The pounding was dull but relentless. He hadn't bothered taking any pain medication for it. "We don't have anything in common."
"He doesn't look up to you yet. You're a good person, Tony. He will look up to you when he realizes this." Natasha's words send a few gears turning in Tony's brain. Did he have something worth looking up to in Harry's eyes? Saving the world didn't seem like enough for it, not when Harry didn't even see the full extent of what went on when he did. People cared little for their sacrifice after the fact, especially when it didn't affect their lives. There wasn't any way Harry would find something to look up to.
Tony was a superhero. He was a billionaire. He was an inventor. No teenager cared about those things, did they? How was he supposed to gain the respect of someone who didn't care about the things he did? Peter was easy; he wanted to be everything Tony already was. The kid fell into the palm of his hands and fed from it. That was only because he wanted to be Tony. Harry wouldn't want that.
"You just have to make him feel comfortable." Bucky's hands rack through Tony's hair as he speaks. His voice was more of a rumble in such close quarters, which only worked to further soothe Tony into him. The anxiety he felt over the whole topic seemed a little easier to deal with now, with Bucky right beside him.
"How do I do that?"
"I have an idea." Natasha pushes her body off of the table, eyes glued to Tony as she does. She walks to the sofa, shifting it as she sits beside the two. "We need to have an Avengers movie night."
"A movie night? I don't mean to pick Nat, but how is that going to help us?" Tony's obvious confusion made Natasha laugh as she straightens. Her eyes scan over the lab in all its disarray. Parts had been thrown here and there to make room for the current project because they weren't labor-inducing enough. Coffee mugs lay empty and half full, most of them within arms reach of one stool or another. It looked as if someone hadn't left the lab in weeks. Though she knew this wasn't true, it would happen if they didn't drag Tony out right about now.
"Harry gets to meet everyone. And you get to see more of him." Natasha picks up one of the mugs of coffee and turns it towards her. It had a comical heart with an arrow through it. This one had been a present from Steve last Valentine's Day, as Bucky had always complained about the holiday. Tony had threatened to give it to one of his robots to smash, but the threat was an empty one. He used it most days.
"But-"
"No buts. This is happening." Natasha gives Tony one of her looks and sets the mug back down. Bucky seems weary of the idea, as well, but she doesn't much care. "Tell everybody about it. Thursday at 8. Anyone who's not there is getting their ass handed to them."
—-
Harry really wasn't sure what to do now. The room seemed to press into him, the pressure of it buzzing along the surface of his skin. He wasn't even sure why. Why was this so hard? The living room was big, for one, and not claustrophobic at all. Besides the sofas and the TV, there was little for him to even trip over. And it's not like he was backed into a corner, either. The elevator was right behind him, open for use, and a room stood to his left. Though it was probably someone else's he could slip inside it for now.
All of them were options. Harry didn't have to do this; he could slip away unnoticed, with little to worry about or explain. It wouldn't leave him with much, but it would do. He blamed his Gryffindor brain for making him stick to it.
His eyes were still glued to Steve standing a few yards ahead of him. That's where the pressure was coming from, he knew yet didn't want to admit. He wasn't one to feel anxiety even in the worst of circumstances. Hell, he had faced Voldemort himself without the crawling feeling under his skin at the moment. It felt as if ants were using his veins for their hill, traveling back and forth through the paths. With it was a more familiar filling. The void of worry hung heavy in his gut. The feeling twists and turns and upsets his stomach to the point he is afraid he was gonna vomit everywhere. All because of this man, Steve Rogers.
"You should eat." Was the first thing the man says to Harry. He looked about as anxious as Harry felt with the added effect of looking like he was going to turn and sprint in the opposite direction. "There's uh, there's food in the kitchen."
When it became obvious Steve wasn't going to move without an answer, Harry nods his head once. It seemed enough for Steve. In the next moment, he turns into the kitchen. His figure disappears behind the wall separating the hallway from the rest of the room, leaving Harry an option of fleeing or following. All of his options flash in front of his eyes for a split second. It would be so easy.
Harry Potter doesn't run away.
So, he grits his teeth hard, hearing them groan against the effort, and walks into the kitchen. Steve had already started heating up what looked like pizza from the very bland-looking container it sat in. The microwave door had just shut when Harry steps into the room.
"You'll have to eat on the island. The dining room is, well, you see it." Steve nods to the small island separating the kitchen from the dining room. Or, what used to be the dining room. Harry had really done a number on it with his outburst.
The table was scorched, and when he says scorched he means it. Black marks explode and stretch from the side of the table Harry had sat at. Honestly, he was surprised none of the adults had mentioned it to him yet. The normal scorch marks gave away to little bits of what looks like lightning, which crackle along with the wood of the table all the way to the other edge of it. The walls had similar marks, although they were harder to see and would hopefully be easier to cover and repair. It seems as if the light above the table had busted, but it flickered on every few seconds. As it did it gave a little noise, almost a high-pitched groan, before flickering out again. The scene looked like something out of a movie.
And he had done it all himself. Magic like that hadn't come from him in so long it was hard to believe. Harry thinks back to the last time it had happened, that night with his aunt. She had blown up like a balloon. To this day he never felt that bad for it. Guilty the ministry had to deal with it, but not bad about the woman floating in the sky. All he remembered of her were oversized fleshy fingers and harsh words. They cut almost as deep as her dog's teeth would. Accidental magic had all but disappeared from him after that. Hogwarts had helped him grow out of the instability of his lack of experience. This situation had thrown him right back into it. When would his letter of warning come? Would it even so far away?
"Nobody got hurt did they?" The question came with a lot of inner worries. It didn't click until that moment. What if he had hurt someone? The table didn't look too bad and there wasn't anyone too close to him, but that didn't mean they were Scott free. "I- The electricity didn't hurt anyone did it?"
"No. Everyone was fine. Not even a scratch." Steve answers without any real question in his tone as if he had expected that question. Or wasn't paying much attention to the way it was worded. Whatever it was, it calmed Harry's sudden wave of guilt. He hadn't hurt anyone at least. Maybe burnt up a chunk of wood, but it could always be replaced.
A plate of pizza is thrown down in front of Harry, diverting his attention from the burning kitchen down to the warm greasy smell of food. Wasn't New York City pizza, like, renowned or something? He was sure he had heard Hermoine mention it once or twice in the few times they actually talked about the muggle world around the others. The slice looked about the same as the frozen stuff Dudley always ate or the cheap pizza they had gotten once, and let him have a slice of out of the "kindness of our hearts" as Vernon had said.
Honestly, he wasn't sure he was going to mind it all that much. As soon as the smell hit his nose he could feel his stomach turn in anticipation. It let out a loud growl, almost like a dog when faced with prey, reminding Harry how much he hadn't eaten in the past few days. Week? Month? The Dursleys weren't the best at feeding him.
When he picks the pizza up it bends in on itself, the newly melted cheese sloshing inward. Some of it drips off the side and lands on the plate. The grease was real, but Harry couldn't find it within himself to care as he took a bite of it. He hums in approval at the taste. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to eating the food, or perhaps it was because he was hungry, but he was pretty sure pizza had become his new favorite thing to eat.
"It's really good," Harry says to Steve. The super soldier smiles and nods in his general direction.
"That's New York Pizza for you." He shifts then, clamping his hands together in front of himself on the table. Harry could make out the whiteness of his knuckles against the marble grain. "Sorry, it's not the best. Clint has terrible taste in pizza."
"I've only had pizza like this once or twice, anyway. And it was nothing compared to this." Harry takes a few more bites in silence. Steve seemed shocked or something, as he was gawking at Harry as he ate the slice of pizza. Had he said something wrong?
"Never had much pizza? What kind of kid doesn't eat pizza?" The tone Steve spoke with almost frightened Harry from eating his share of the pizza he had been given. His hands freeze in the air for a moment as he thinks back on why he never eats pizza. It's always Dudley stuffing his face, so there wasn't much left to begin with. Vernon's eyes flash across Harry's vision; large and crazy and burning with hatred as they always were. It makes his stomach twist in disease, and his hands shake for a few moments, stuck between setting the pizza down and stuffing it in his mouth. He decides to stuff it in his mouth before he could mess up anymore.
Steve didn't need to hear any pity party from Harry. Even the thought of pushing his problems onto the hero, and his new father in law, made him want to magic himself out of America. It wouldn't take much to send him back.
For a moment Harry ponders that very thought. It wouldn't be hard to pull out his wand and throw a few illegal spells he doesn't know how to perform. There's always the chance of cutting himself in half by accident, but, well, it was plausible. Harry could send himself all the way back to England, but then where would he be? With the Dursleys in their overheated home and ever gardened plants.
"Just don't like it I guess." Harry blurts, having made his decision to stay for the present moment. Too many negative outcomes could come from using magic right now. His words were a bandage, a sort of stop for the thoughts whirling around in his head. It didn't help Harry's rising anxiety much, nor did it stop Steve from looking at him like the super soldier was figuring out way too much on his own.
And Steve wasn't giving Harry any space to breathe. The man was watching his every move like a hawk. Blue eyes bore into the side of Harry's head, something he tried to avoid by letting his grown-out hair fall between the two of them. It helped a little, blocked out a lot of the frown Steve wore, but not near enough to actually help Harry forget about the hero sitting beside him.
He picked at his food for a few more minutes, eating small bites of the cheese pizza until his stomach groaned with nausea. All the while the two sat in silence. It was an awkward one, so tense you could cut it with a knife. The only noises that filled the room were soft music from some other floor and the sounds of Harry chewing on his food. At least, after a moment or two of complete awkward silence, Steve had gotten up and started on some dished. The sudden sound of water hitting the metal bottom of the sink sounded as loud as a gunshot in the quiet room. Harry pushes his plate towards Steve when he sets it down, which grabs the man's attention. His blue eyes focus on Harry and follow the movement of his hand to the plate of food. Steve frowns from his spot in the kitchen.
"You didn't eat much, kid. You sure you don't want to snack on it some more?"
"I'm sure," Harry answers lamely. It was hard to meet Steve in the eyes, so he didn't. He slips off of his chair unceremoniously onto the tile floor. Steve gives nothing but a small sigh as he picks up the plate and slips it in the sink along with his other dishes. "I don't eat much anyway."
"Don't? Or can't?" The response was automatic and biting, its tone rather sharp for what Harry had imagined Steve to be, it shocked him from his awkward shamble towards the living room, freezing him halfway between the two rooms. For a moment he stares at the floor in the kitchen. How had he known? Harry hadn't tipped him off, had he? The conversations -- everyone he had ever had with Steve -- pounds into his memory. Where had he messed up? How did he know? Harry's palms were moist with anxious sweat. "Your uncles brought you here for a reason, Harry. I may be ancient but I'm not stupid."
"I never said you-"
"All Jarvis could find on you were old school photos." Steve began. A loud clatter sounded, one of Steves's dishes being thrown to the countertop rather before Steve turns to the still half petrified teen. Harry turns to better face the soldiers, his ears pumping with the sounds of his own pulse. How did Jarvis even do that? Harry wanted nothing more than to run from the situation. The living room was freedom, it was, but his legs wouldn't carry him there. Either from fear or curiosity, he wasn't too sure. "In every photo we could find, which weren't many mind you, you looked as skinny and broken down as you do now. You can blame it on childhood recklessness or clumsiness but neither Bucky, Tony, or I am going to believe you."
"And we aren't letting you go back." Steve tilts his head in a way that makes Harry feel small. Not in a bad way, either. The look made him want to run into Steve's arms and give him a hug. A feeling similar to the one he felt when he first started talking to Sirius about moving in with him so long ago. Hope? Happiness? Safety? Whatever it was it made Harry listen to whatever was about to come from Steve's mouth. "You are family now, Harry Potter. I don't care who your mother is or what bad things you did in that school of yours. You're a Stark now and the sooner you realize it the better off you'll be."
Silence falls over the two after that. Harry stands dumbfounded in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes blown wide as he stares at Steve. Steve returns his gaze with one daring him to argue. Harry's mouth opens and closes a few times before he breaks the gaze. Steve lets his own face fall into more of an empathetic expression.
"There are clothes for you in the hallway outside your room. The bathroom is across the hallway. Feel free to use it." His tone was gentle as he turned away from the still stunned teenager. Steve's back blocked his view of Harry.
Harry wipes the wetness from around his eyes. Family. He hadn't heard that word in a long time. Ron and Hermoine and Molly and Arthur fit the bill well enough, but nothing connected them all besides circumstance and friendship. Harry always felt like an outcast to their blood bonds. And he wasn't often included the past few weeks.
How did he feel? Harry felt accepted for the first time all summer. This wasn't some sort of chess game with him being pushed around like a pawn. No, this was Stark tower.
And he was a Stark.
Afterword
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