They spent the rest of the day quietly. Harry had pointed out a series of books magical people used to learn about the mundane world and suggested Steve and Bucky read them. They had been a godsend; the books explained much of the modern world, but without going into unnecessary, technical details. Steve learned more in the month they'd spent here than in the last several years.

Bucky spent most of the day trying to read. Only to be distracted by the fabric of the couch under his metal hand. Or the texture of his jeans, the leather binding the book. It was all carefully examined. Steve hid his smile. He hadn't seen that sense of wonder in Bucky since they were kids.

Harry hadn't returned, and Hermione hadn't stepped foot out of the library. Steve stuck his head in a couple of times, but she sat barricaded behind an intimidating stack of books. Once he saw Kreacher was keeping her supplied with food and drinks, Steve worried less.

Steve and Bucky had finished dinner and were back in the smaller sitting room reading when a set of unfamiliar, heavy footsteps came down the hall. With a frown, Steve sat up and ignored the knife that appeared from nowhere in Bucky's hand.

A tall, lanky man with fiery red hair stuck his head in the door. Once he saw them, he smiled, all good humor, and walked into the room.

"Ron Weasley," he introduced himself nonchalantly. "Steve and Bucky, right?"

Ron was far more casual and affable than either Harry or Hermione.

Bucky tucked the knife away where ever it had come from and nodded. Steve got to his feet and held out his hand. The other man shook it easily.

"I've heard a lot about you," Steve said in greeting.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry I haven't made it around earlier. George has been on a creative kick and somebody had to be there to put out the fires."

Wanting to get to know the people close to Harry, Steve asked Ron to join them.

"Ta," Ron said, and collapsed on the closest couch. "Kreacher," Ron called.

The elf popped into the room. "What can Kreacher be getting for the Weasel?"

Steve had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Tea and maybe a sandwich, please?" Ron asked, ignoring the name.

"Kreacher can do," the elf said before turning to Steve. "Will Captain Savage and Mr. Bucky be wanting coffee?"

"Please," Bucky said with a smug smile, clearly pleased Kreacher didn't call him anything embarrassing.

The elf popped away with a nod.

Ron gave Steve a commiserating smile. "Afraid you're stuck with that, mate. I've known Kreacher ten years and he won't call me anything else."

"That elf is demented," Steve muttered.

A tray with coffee, tea, a massive sandwich, and three wedges of chocolate cake appeared on the coffee table. Bucky recently rediscovered his sweet tooth and quickly snagged a piece of cake with his coffee. Ron took the sandwich and started eating. Even Steve couldn't resist the temptation of the cake. He could smell the cinnamon in it and Steve was partial to cinnamon. The room was quiet for several minutes.

Once Ron had finished his sandwich and cake, he picked up the teacup and sat back. "Out of curiosity, do either of you know what set my wife off on a research frenzy?"

With a huff, Bucky shook his head. "One minute she was telling me to watch my language and the next she was rushing to the library."

Ron grinned. "How many times did you say fuck?"

"I don't keep count," Bucky muttered.

"Twice," Steve said with a frown. "And Harry, before he left, once."

"That'll do it," Ron said with a smile. "Hermione isn't fond of that word, thinks it's common." He cocked his head. "Where did Harry run off to?"

"New York," Bucky said with a scowl. "With no one to watch his back."

"He's always been like that," Ron said with a sad smile.

Trying to change the subject and keep Bucky from brooding, Steve turned to Ron. "We've heard about the troll incident and earlier Hermione mentioned slapping someone when she was fourteen; it sounds like Hogwarts was exciting."

"Understatement of the century, mate," Ron said with a wry expression. "Harry and Hermione have been keeping me up to date while I was minding George. And as the record holder for friends pissing Harry off, I think I figured out part of the problem you're having with Harry."

"Record holder?" Bucky asked while Steve flushed.

"I accused him of lying," Ron said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "He didn't speak to me for three weeks. And we shared a dorm room."

No matter how embarrassed Steve was, he wanted to know the problem Ron had noticed. "What do you think it is?"

"Harry isn't used to people not knowing his history," Ron said. "Since the moment he returned to the magical world, the press and gossips have broadcast his every move."

Ron sipped his tea. "But you don't know all that, and I think maybe you should."

"I don't want to invade his privacy," Steve said, his disapproval clear on his face. It surprised Steve that a friend would offer such a thing.

Ron gave Steve a pointed look. "Harry is the best friend I'll ever have, only Hermione rivals that. I've risked my life and killed for him. I know what he considers private, and I would never betray that."

Before Steve wedged his foot any further in his mouth, Bucky said, "We'd like to hear whatever you're willing to share."

"I'm sorry," Steve said.

Ron waved him off and called Kreacher. When the elf popped into the room, Ron asked, "Can you bring Hermione's scrapbooks, please?"

"Kreacher will," the elf said. He popped out and a moment later, a stack of leather-bound scrapbooks appeared on the table.

"Hermione is determined to make sure no one forgets Harry's story," Ron said as he opened the first book and laid it on the table so Bucky and Steve could see. "So, she made these, with what pictures and newspaper articles she could get ahold of. The rest is accounts written by Hermione or me, and a few of our friends."

The next two hours were a revelation. Ron told them about Harry's life from the death of his parents through his defeat of the Dark Lord named Voldemort. It was shocking; Harry had not only survived but come out the other side a thoroughly decent man. The story was heartbreaking and sickening. So many people had used Harry to further their own ends. It put a lot of Harry's behavior into perspective.

When he'd finished, Ron sent the scrapbooks back with Kreacher and poured Steve and Bucky a generous tumbler of whiskey. He didn't push them into conversation; he leaned back with his own drink and let them process.

Before Steve could decide if the dark, brooding expression on Bucky's face was going to be a problem, Harry walked into the room. Movements stiff, hair back in a bedraggled bun, and a tired expression. He collapsed on the couch next to Ron, snagging Ron's glass as he leaned back against the arm with a grunt, and dropped his feet on Ron's lap.

"Ta," Harry said tiredly, toasting Ron with his own glass.

He threw back the last of the whiskey and summoned the bottle. He refilled the glass and passed it back to Ron, returning the bottle.

"Heathen," Ron muttered as he flicked his wand at Harry's feet, banishing the shoes. "You don't put your shoes on the furniture."

"They weren't on the furniture," Harry said with a grin. "They were on you."

Ron rolled his eyes and settled Harry's feet more comfortably on his lap. "How'd it go in New York?"

"Annoying," Harry said with a frown. "But it's fine now."

"Yeah," Ron said with an eyebrow raised. He leaned over and poked Harry in the ribs, getting a yelp in return. "Then why are you favoring your ribs?"

Harry slapped Ron's hand away. "Nothing's broken," he said. "Just a couple of bruises."

With a gesture at Harry's shirt, Ron said, "Let's see 'em then."

Harry darted a look at Steve and Bucky before reluctantly sitting up. With a pained grunt, Harry pulled his shirt off over his head.

Steve winced in sympathy; all down Harry's right side, from his armpit to near his waist, were blotchy red bruises. Bucky stood and pushed at Harry's shoulder, revealing more on his back.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron growled. "You should have gone to a healer; one of your ribs might be cracked."

Despite his tone, Ron was gentle as he moved Harry's feet out of his lap. "Just a few bruises, my arse. I ought to pull Hermione out of her research."

Ron dropped to his knees next to Harry and gently prodded Harry's ribs. Harry hissed in pain but didn't protest.

"I've just handled one vengeful woman," Harry said with an irritable huff. "I don't need another."

"Kreacher," Ron called.

The elf popped into the room, and after one look at Harry, was at his side in an instant.

"Can you tell if any of his ribs are cracked?" Ron asked the elf.

Kreacher gently traced Harry's ribs with one finger, eyes narrowed in concentration. "They are not being cracked," Kreacher said with a frown. "Master must take better care of hisself. Kreacher will bring bruise cream."

"Something for muscles, too," Bucky said from behind Harry. "He's got a seized-up muscle back here tighter than a nun's…"

"Buck," Steve interrupted with a warning look. He ignored the shameless grin Bucky flashed him.

The elf wrung his hands. "Kreacher does not know a potion for that."

Bucky looked up at the elf. "You got something for pain?"

Kreacher nodded rapidly.

"I can rub it out, but it hurts like hell," Bucky said.

Harry shifted, trying to get up, but Ron held his feet on the couch and Bucky pressed down on his shoulders. "I can just take the cream to my room," Harry said with a huff. "The muscle will probably relax on its own."

"In a few days, it might," Steve said. "It used to happen to me. Coughing would make the muscles seize up, that's how Bucky knows what to do."

Steve frowned at the stubborn expression on Harry's face. But before he could say anything, Ron turned to Harry.

"Way I see it, you have two choices, mate," Ron said with a stern look. "One, try to take care of it yourself. But that leaves me free to get Hermione and this time of night, she'll make you go to St. Mungo's. Or two, you let Bucky patch you up."

With an annoyed huff, Harry gave in. "Kreacher, please bring the bruise cream and a numbing cream."

"Bring a pain potion too," Ron said.

Kreacher nodded and popped out.

"I hate pain potions," Harry muttered.

Ron grinned. "Because they make you woozy."

"Wanker," Harry said with a faint smile.

There was a sly gleam in Ron's eyes. "Not anymore, I have a wife."

Bucky snickered, and even Steve had to smile.

"Oi, too much information," Harry said. He tried to go for the pillow behind him, but stopped and flinched as he tried to turn. He grabbed his ribs with a pained groan. "I hate you," he grumbled.

With a pleased smile, Ron stood up and turned to Bucky. "Where do you want him?"

Steve looked at Bucky. "That stool he was using earlier."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, that would be perfect."

"The weird backwards one?" Ron asked.

Steve nodded, and Ron pulled out his wand. A flick and an identical stool appeared before them.

"Should last an hour at least," Ron said.

Together, Ron and Bucky got Harry settled on the stool. His back to Bucky, who was sitting on the couch, legs spread around the stool. Two jars and a vial full of a pale blue liquid appeared on the table. Ron handed Bucky the jar labeled numbing, and with a stern look, handed Harry the vial. Harry wrinkled his nose, pulled the cork and drank the potion with a grimace. Ron took the other jar and began covering the bruised ribs on Harry's front and side with it.

"Will it numb my hand?" Bucky asked as he opened the jar.

Not moving from his seat, Harry gestured. "Not now," he said, voice soft.

Bucky spread the cream over the right side of Harry's lower back. Steve winced when Bucky began a firm massage of the muscle. He didn't know how fast the pain potion would work or how deep the cream could reach, but he knew intimately how much it hurt without those. Harry's eyes were closed, his face almost peaceful, bar the slight furrowing of his brow.

Ron finished putting the cream on Harry's ribs, flicked his wand to clean off his hands, and crouched down next to Steve.

"There might be some discomfort," Ron said quietly, "But he's not in any real pain. That potion is fast acting."

Ron waved his wand, and a damp cloth appeared on the table. "When Bucky's done, he'll want to wipe that cream off. I'm going to check on Hermione, but I'll be back."

Ron headed out the door towards the library. Harry crossed his arms over the tall front of the stool and laid his head down, eyes still closed. His breathing was deep and even, it almost looked like he was trying to sleep.

Steve could only catch glimpses of Bucky's face. With his head bent to his task, his hair concealed his face. Underneath the concentration, Steve could make out satisfaction and contentment in Bucky's eyes. Steve had felt jealousy before, and what he felt now wasn't quite that. He didn't want to take Bucky's place so much as join him.

Bucky glanced up and caught Steve's eye. He gestured to the jar on the table with his chin. "Come put some of that bruise stuff on his back, Stevie," Bucky said.

Without hesitation, Steve got to his feet, picked up the cream, and sat next to Bucky. He opened the jar and scooped up some of the yellow cream, but all the bruises were on the right side of Harry's body. With Bucky's legs around the stool, the angle was awkward. Bucky was at the end of the couch, so Steve couldn't try from that side either.

Bucky lifted his left arm and raised his eyebrow. "You're gonna have to come a little closer."

Ducking under Bucky's arm, Steve stretched and began applying the cream around the muscle Bucky was rubbing. To reach the furthest bruises, Steve was practically laying in Bucky's lap. Harry flinched a bit at the cold cream, but didn't try to move away.

When Steve felt the cool touch and weight of Bucky's hand on his back, he glanced up. From this angle, Bucky's hair didn't shield his face and Steve inhaled sharply. He had never, in all the time he'd known Bucky, seen the look of absolute serenity that was on Bucky's face now.

Bucky glanced down at Steve and gave him a soft smile. Steve felt off-balance; he didn't know what all this meant, only that it meant something, something important. Before he could even try to form a question, he noticed the faint vibrations from where his hand still rested on Harry's back.

"Is he purring?" Steve asked incredulously, taking his hand back.

Beside the flinch, Harry hadn't moved since Steve had joined them. And given the continued silence, Steve assumed he was asleep after all.

"Damn sure feels like it," Bucky said, his soft smile replaced by a grin. "That muscle just relaxed."

Bucky stopped rubbing and moved his hand off Harry's back. Steve sat up and handed him the damp cloth, a bit surprised it was warm. They heard a faint whine from Harry. After wiping his hand clean, Bucky nudged Steve to stand. Once Steve was out of the way, Bucky got to his feet and gently maneuvered Harry into laying back on the couch. Harry never opened his eyes, but he wasn't dead weight either.

While Steve closed the jars, Bucky moved the stool out of the way. Ron came back into the room and laughed when he saw Harry.

"Pain potions always affect him like that. It's why he doesn't like them." Ron turned to Bucky and Steve. "I convinced Hermione to go home, but don't be surprised to see her early tomorrow. I'll haul Harry up to bed before I go."

"It was nice to meet you," Steve said with an absent smile, his mind still on earlier.

With a smile, Ron bent down, one arm under Harry's knees, the other under his shoulders, and lifted Harry off the couch smoothly and easily, leaving Steve surprised and impressed. He wouldn't have guessed Ron had that kind of strength. Harry turned his head into Ron's shoulder and sighed.

"Night," Ron said as he turned to get Harry through the doorway.

Steve and Bucky followed Ron up the stairs, opening Harry's bedroom door for him. They were still silent as they entered their suite, separating to get ready for bed. Between learning Harry's history and whatever had happened on the couch, Steve's mind was a whirl. He wasn't sure he could sleep himself.

He got to Bucky's room and found the other man lying on his back, staring at the dark ceiling thoughtfully. Steve crawled in beside him, but instead of rolling away, Bucky pulled Steve in. He pressed Steve's head down to his chest, running his hand up and down Steve's spine.

It was several moments before Steve relaxed; it was the first time Bucky had held him. The warm, firm chest serving as his pillow was surprisingly comfortable, and Steve let his arm rest on Bucky's stomach. It was reassuring and almost sweet; the hand rubbing his back calming.

Not sure what he wanted to say, but thinking maybe Bucky could help him figure it all out, Steve spoke. "Buck?"

The hand never stopped its slow movement. "Not tonight, Stevie, still trying to get it all straight in my head."

"Soon?" Steve asked. He didn't like the uncertainty and confusion he was experiencing.

"Soon," Bucky said. Steve heard the promise in his voice.

Content for the moment, Steve closed his eyes and fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Bucky's heart and the warm hand on his back.

%%%

For the most part, the next several days passed in their usual manner. Bucky was still working with Hermione or Luna most days. Steve spent his days working out, drawing, and reading.

He'd started getting phone calls from Fury and Natasha. The ongoing negotiations with the UN were going well. Tentatively, the Avengers would work under the auspices of the UN, they would retain most of their autonomy and have the final say on missions.

The progress on Bucky's case was good news as well. Part of the data Harry had turned over from the Hydra base contained video evidence of what Bucky had gone through. The thought of the monsters taping it sickened Steve, but since he couldn't change that fact, he was glad it could help Bucky now.

They still wanted to interview Bucky, but the focus had changed. Now it seemed they wanted to be assured of his soundness of mind. Hermione had put her foot down and demanded the UN inspectors do their interview here, with her present for the session. Steve supported her wholeheartedly. He'd seen how protective she was of her patients, and she would make a fierce advocate for Bucky.

Reluctantly, Steve had given Fury his impression of Harry's abilities. He had no doubt Harry would be an asset to the Avengers and was equally sure Harry wouldn't let his issues interfere with his work. Fury had asked him to hold off on talking to Harry for the moment. The sheer volume of information Harry had released to the UN had pushed that conversation back as they scrambled to play cleanup on the remnants of Hydra.

Harry himself spent most of his time in his office. He never talked about what he was working on, and Steve was careful to curb his curiosity. There was no obvious change in his demeanor, but Steve couldn't help but feel Harry was withdrawing.

Steve didn't say anything, not even to Bucky. Mostly because Steve thought basing his feeling on things like Harry not wearing his hair down anymore, putting the cuffs back on his wrists, and the restrained feeling of his magic were too nebulous.

Steve and Bucky were lingering over their coffee when Harry hurried into the room with a wide smile on his face and his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Hermione said she wouldn't be here till lunch, which is perfect. Grab a heavier shirt and comfortable walking shoes. I'll meet you out front." Harry didn't give them a chance to ask questions or even respond. He turned on his heel and left as quickly as he'd arrived.

Bucky shrugged and got to his feet. "I got nothing better to do."

Steve sighed and followed Bucky up to the suite. It only took them a couple of minutes to change shoes and dress for the cool Scottish weather. In less than five minutes, they were walking out the front door.

They found Harry laughing as Luna danced around him, hands waving as she spoke. They were both wearing jeans and sweaters, Harry's a dark blue and Luna's a pale yellow with purple polka dots. When they approached, Luna gave them a beaming smile, grabbed Harry's hand, and pulled him after her.

"Where are we going?" Steve asked, as he and Bucky hurried after them.

"It's a surprise," Luna said with a mysterious smile.

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "It's a brilliant surprise, I promise."

Luna was still holding Harry's hand but was no longer pulling him, she'd settled for walking beside him swinging their arms. It was a beautiful day, cool but not cold. The sun was shining and there was no hint of the mist that was often present in the mornings. It only took them about ten minutes to reach the edge of a forested area. Steve had walked most of the estate but hadn't ventured into the forest yet.

Before they went any further, Luna stopped and turned to Steve and Bucky. "Try not to make any loud or sudden noises. Talking quietly is fine."

She was off again, minus Harry this time. Harry hung back and walked with Steve and Bucky. "It's not much further now," he said at a conversational volume.

Knowing they wouldn't get any more out of Harry, Steve contented himself with enjoying the walk and having Harry and Bucky close. They walked for another few minutes, deeper into the forest, until they approached a clearing.

Harry held a finger to his lips and pushed aside a low-hanging tree limb, ushering them forward. When they got into the clearing, Steve stopped dead. He had a vague awareness of Bucky and Harry beside him, but most of his attention was on the center of the clearing.

It was the most awe-inspiring thing he'd ever seen. There were half a dozen shining white unicorns peacefully grazing in the clearing. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away, he barely dared to breathe. He had no idea how long he stood there, but at some point, Harry took him by the hand and pulled.

Steve turned his head and saw Harry also had Bucky's hand and was leading them to a red tartan blanket spread out at the edge of the clearing. Once they were walking on their own, Harry let them go and sat cross-legged on the blanket.

Eyes still on the unicorns, Steve sat on the blanket. A moment later, something dropped into his lap. Steve looked down, surprised to see his sketch pad and roll-up case of pencils. Bucky was giving Harry a fond smile as he leaned back on his elbows. Harry had his head down, digging in his bag.

Touched that Harry had thought to bring his art supplies, Steve nudged Harry's booted foot. When Harry looked up, Steve smiled and said, "Thank you, Harry."

The flush on Harry's cheeks was still pretty. If it weren't for the unicorns, Steve might try to capture that in his sketchbook. Knowing Harry was uncomfortable, Steve turned back to the unicorns. It only took him a minute to ready his supplies and start drawing. He didn't try anything detailed, just impressions to work with later.

He couldn't help but laugh as Luna pranced through the clearing, talking to the unicorns. To Steve's disbelief, they seemed to be listening. She dropped armfuls of clover and the unicorns accepted the treat with regal grace. She seemed to check them over, running her hands down their legs and leaning in to look at their eyes.

It truly was a magical experience and Steve never dreamed it would get better. They'd been sitting for close to half an hour when a magnificent stallion stepped into the clearing, his silvery eyes carefully taking in the clearing, paying special attention to the men on the blanket.

After several minutes, he seemed reassured, tossed his mane, and nickered softly. To Steve's awe, two tiny golden foals tumbled into the clearing and rushed to one of the mares.

"Luna thinks they're only a week old," Harry said. "This herd regularly spends the spring and summer here; she's been keeping an eye out because they were late this year. The foals are likely why."

"I don't have words," Bucky said. "Thanks for this, Green-Eyes."

Before Steve could add his thanks, the foals noticed them and started in their direction.

"The adults aren't fond of men," Harry said quietly. "But the foals are less picky."

The stallion crossed the clearing, keeping an eye on the foals and the men. He stopped maybe ten feet from the blanket. Given his size, he could reach them in less than a second, and this close, that horn was intimidating. Slowly, Steve set aside his sketchbook, keeping his hands visible and his movements smooth.

The foals were curious, but still cautious. It was all Steve could do not to hold his breath. When they reached the edge of the blanket, Harry lifted his hands a short distance in front of him. He had apple slices on his palms. The foals inched closer, obviously interested in the treat. It didn't take them long to stretch their heads and snatch the apples. They backed up a couple of feet and ate.

Harry pulled a small container of sliced apples out of his bag and divided them between Steve and Bucky. The stallion was still watching them, but had lowered his head to graze.

In a minute or two, the foals were back. Steve held out the apple on his palm. The foal came closer this time and didn't run the moment it had the treat. Steve dared to slowly reach out and run his fingers along the golden mane.

The foal didn't seem to care. He was nudging Steve to see if he had more apples. He heard breathless laughter from Bucky's direction and looked over. The other foal had almost climbed into Bucky's lap looking for more apples.

Steve stroked the foal's velvety neck and fed it apples until he ran out. Upon realizing there were no more treats, the unicorn sniffed Steve thoroughly before turning and running back to the herd, followed a moment later by its twin. The stallion drifted off as well. Steve hurried to sketch a few impressions of the foals and stallion.

Steve put away his sketchbook and simply soaked up the peace and joy in the air. Harry passed out water bottles at some point, but none of them broke the silence.

He was a little startled when Harry said in a soft voice, "It's nearly lunch, we should head back."

Bucky looked at the sun overhead and shook his head. "It doesn't feel like we've been out here for hours."

Steve couldn't believe it either. They quickly cleaned up and turned back towards the house.

"Luna?" Bucky asked.

Harry smiled fondly. "She'll stay out here all day. Her husband will turn up eventually and drag her home. There's nothing in the forest that would hurt her."

Wishing he could be as easy as Luna and grab Harry's hand, Steve nevertheless enjoyed the walk back. They were all quiet, but it was peaceful, not awkward. Harry set an unhurried pace and was more mellow than Steve had ever seen him. Bucky was loose and relaxed, a small smile on his face. Steve enjoyed having them both with him, enjoyed knowing they were both safe and happy.

They made good time back to the house. Hermione was waiting at the table when they got to the dining room. "Unicorns?" she asked with a smile.

Harry nodded and sat down. "With two foals."

"That's Luna gone for the day," Hermione said with a fond smile. "Luckily, today is quiet."

As Steve and Bucky took their seats, Kreacher appeared and handed Harry a thick envelope. "It comes while Master was out."

"It came here?" Harry asked.

"By owl," Kreacher said. "Kreacher checked, there be no spells on it."

"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said with a frown as he opened the envelope. Kreacher nodded and popped out.

There was a sheet of parchment covered in large, sharp writing, and a page of what looked like newsprint. Harry skimmed through the letter, face steadily growing colder. The feel of Harry's magic swirled around; it was still the feeling of static, but sharper, almost a static shock. For the first time, Steve noticed Harry's hair moving as if in a breeze. Bucky sat up, eyes on Harry, body tensed for action.

Harry spared the newsprint a brief glance before he ripped both papers in half and flung them across the table. He knocked his chair over as he stood and stormed from the room. A moment later, the front door slammed behind him. All three people still at the table flinched at the sound.

Hermione had her wand out in a flash and waved it at the torn papers. They repaired themselves as they flew to her hand. She looked at the newsprint and scowled. "That evil, spiteful, repugnant cow. I'm going to strangle her until her eyes pop out of her head, shove them down her throat and let her choke on them."

Bucky looked impressed and terrified. The threat simply terrified Steve; she'd been holding back when she threatened him.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked, daring Hermione's rage.

Hermione ignored him as her wand moved again. The silver otter Steve had seen before appeared beside her. "Rita Skeeter strikes again, Harry's furious and at the quarry, I hope." When she finished speaking, the otter floated through the wall behind her.

She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. It was only her obvious distress that held Steve's tongue. In all of his walks, he hadn't seen a quarry, so he had no way of finding Harry. And even if he did, he had no idea how to help him.

Bucky got to his feet and nudged Hermione. When she opened her eyes, he held out his hand. "Lunch can wait. Let's get you somewhere you can put your feet up."

With a sad smile, Hermione took his hand and let him help her up. Steve got to his feet to follow, but had a thought. "Kreacher," he called.

The elf popped into the room and glanced around before turning to Steve with a frown.

"I don't know what's going on," Steve said, voice low. "But it upset Hermione. Bucky's taking her to the sitting room. Can you please bring her some tea, whatever you think will be best?"

Kreacher nodded. "And coffee for Captain Savage and Mr. Bucky."

"Thank you."

Steve hurried to the sitting room. Bucky had Hermione installed in a chair with her feet up on an ottoman. She seemed more sad than furious now. Steve didn't know if that was an improvement. A moment later Kreacher appeared with a tray; he set it down on the coffee table and hurried to prepare Hermione a cup. He handed it to her and patted her hand.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Hermione said. "Rita Skeeter wrote another nasty article about Harry and you know how he gets."

"Kreacher will be looking out for beetles," the elf said in a vicious growl.

Steve didn't know what that meant, but Kreacher was patently furious. The elf popped out of the room muttering about insecticides.

Hermione took a sip of her tea and rested the cup on the arm of the chair. With a wave of her wand, the newsprint floated to the couch Steve and Bucky were sitting on. Bucky was faster but held it out so Steve could read as well. After some of the worst tabloid journalism he'd ever read, fury and horror vied for control.

"They put him on trial?" Bucky asked, horrified.

"A public trial in front of the full Wizengamot," Hermione said sadly. "In the courtroom across the hall from the Department of Mysteries, barely two weeks after he'd escaped."

"What happened?" Steve asked, trying to rein in his anger. "This article is obvious bullshit."

With a sigh, Hermione rubbed her stomach soothingly. "Kingsley was Minister of Magic when they kidnapped Harry. But the Department of Mysteries didn't answer to the Ministry; it only answered to a subcommittee of the Wizengamot. With all the committee members being former Unspeakables."

"Bureaucracy at its finest," she said with a sneer.

Bucky poured two cups of coffee, but Steve knew it was more to be doing something than a desire for coffee. Steve accepted the cup anyway.

"Furious, Kingsley resigned. Then immediately tried to storm the Department, but unless they wanted you in, it was impenetrable." Hermione sipped her tea absently.

"The man elected to replace Kingsley has a grudge against Harry." She glanced at them. "Ron told you about Cedric Diggory?"

"The boy who died in the tournament," Bucky said with a nod.

"His father. Amos Diggory never got over Cedric's death and he's come to blame Harry," Hermione said. "So, when the committee members went to Minister Diggory, it wasn't difficult to convince him to put Harry on trial."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they were shining with tears. "Harry was in no shape for a trial, not physically or mentally. Being so close to the place they imprisoned him made it worse."

Steve felt Bucky shudder beside him and, without thought, reached out and clasped Bucky's hand. Bucky laced their fingers together and restlessly rubbed his thumb along Steve's fingers.

Hermione swallowed hard. "Harry didn't say a single word for the three days that farce went on, not inside the courtroom, not at home, just complete, frigid silence. After everything he'd been through, that trial came the closest to breaking him."

She turned away for a moment, and Steve noticed a spotless white handkerchief appear on the table. With a silent thanks to Kreacher, Steve let go of Bucky for a second, slipped it into her hand and retook his seat. Bucky immediately reached for his hand again. After a couple of moments, she turned back to them and, after another sip of tea, continued.

"Thankfully, we influenced enough members of the Wizengamot to compel the remaining Unspeakables to testify under a powerful truth serum." A grimly satisfied smile tugged at Hermione's lips. "One of their own formulas, used against them."

"After that testimony, they cleared Harry of all charges and dissolved the Department of Mysteries. But the press was relentless for months, with Rita Skeeter being the worst." Hermione seemed exhausted.

"Kreacher," Bucky called. The elf responded in an instant. "Is there somewhere she can lie down?"

"Upstairs, second door on the left be a guestroom," Kreacher said without fuss or hesitation. "Kreacher will make up the bed."

As Kreacher popped out, Bucky squeezed Steve's hand before letting go and standing. Once again Bucky helped Hermione to her feet and then steered her upstairs. Steve didn't move, unable to believe the cruelty shown to Harry. He understood why Harry didn't want to go out in public often. The Avengers were sounding like a much better option for Harry; it would get him away from the society that had used him his whole life.

Bucky rejoined him and together they kept a silent vigil. Kreacher brought meals and drinks, but neither had an appetite. They ate enough to fill the hole without noticing what they were eating. They took turns pacing, and they took turns checking on Hermione. It was after midnight when Ron finally walked into the room, Hermione clinging to his arm.

Ron's voice was hoarse, and he looked exhausted. "I found him at the quarry, but he wouldn't talk." Ron glanced down at Hermione. "A couple of hours ago, he stopped blasting rocks and said he had something to do."

"Did he say what?" Steve asked softly.

The helplessness in Ron's eyes mirrored Steve's.

"No, and I've searched half of the country. There's no trace of Harry." Ron sighed. "The only thing he said was there was something needing to be blown to kingdom come."

Ron tiredly ran his hand over his face. "Given the look in his eyes, he was dead serious."

"I'll let you know if we hear anything," Hermione said, head down and voice weary.

They turned and left Steve and Bucky alone.

Bucky growled, "I'm gonna teach that stubborn little pain in the ass not to run off without someone to watch his back." He glared at Steve. "That's twice now, Stevie."

Steve pulled Bucky into a hug. "We'll make sure there's not a third, Buck."