CHAPTER SIX


Summary: When Hermione's contract with SHIELD is sold to Stark Industries and she's traded like she's prized cattle, she is far from pleased. But then, she meets the notorious man for herself and she finds herself thinking that perhaps, it wasn't all that bad a trade.

Disclaimer: All original characters and canon events belong to J.K. Rowling and Marvel. Non-canon events and characters are my own. I am not making any profit from posting this fanfic. Characters are likely to be OOC. This takes place after Iron Man 2, and I will be taking liberties with the timeline/ canon events. Rated for language, violence and sexual content.

Q&A

I'm so glad you all loved Sally. I admit, she's modelled after my cat. Whilst she's not a ragdoll, she is a fluffy mass of fur and she does have the same white/grey colouring, and all behaviours and dietary consumptions are one hundred percent true. My family rescued her at five-weeks-old, the vet told us she wouldn't make it but she was a fighter, and now, she's seventeen-years-old. How amazing is that! And the relationship between Sally and Tony is the relationship between my cat and my dad, although it's clear he much prefers the dog. Why are all dads the same when it comes to pets they never originally wanted?

fairytalebliss182 – Their relationship will be shifting soon.

Riversgirl75 – It's not a super important reason but she will explain her reasoning soon.

Kikagirao – They will have a small interaction soon.

kUkANAbAYbEE – I am still working on them, of course. I've just hit a wall of writer's block, and writing and posting this is slowly helping me break that.


Page count: 13


They were conspiring against her. She was sure of it.

The first time it'd happened, she'd thought nothing of it, just that it was an accident and luck hadn't been on her side. The second time, her suspicions had built but she'd pushed them to the back of her mind. The third time, she was certain. It was too much of a coincidence.

Sally and Tony were conspiring against her. She'd bet her life on it.

In one week alone, five days, she'd been kicked out of three hotels as Sally, her usually quiet and people-avoiding cat, had been 'spotted.' And if she didn't know any better, she'd assume she was doing on purpose. Hermione did know better. She was doing it deliberately.

As Hermione stepped into her lab on a Tuesday afternoon, she crossed the room towards the bedroom so might lock Sally in for the day, but when she opened the door, she blinked in surprise to see there was no bed, shelving unit or bedside cabinet that sat a lamp. It was free of all furniture but it wasn't empty. No, storage and cardboard boxes filled the room. There was a clear pathway that safely led to the bathroom so she might use it if needs be, but it was obvious that she wouldn't be sleeping there after late nights or in cases of emergency.

That hadn't been there last night. She'd pulled an all-nighter before returning to her hotel so she might get a few hours sleep and check on Sally before returning to the Tower. She'd been woken a few hours later and asked to leave as Sally had been seen by another guest who'd tattled on her.

Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed and when Sally broke free of her hold and jumped from her arms, Hermione's eyes followed her movements as she padded across the room and towards the lift. She sighed and rolled her eyes, knowing her intentions and before the lift doors closed, Hermione slipped inside, using her key card, passcode and handprint to gain access to the floor above.

After exiting the lift, Sally made herself comfortable on the couch and Hermione headed for Tony's work station, stepping inside to see him staring at one of the holographic screens intensely, his head tipped slightly in consideration as he held a half-eaten cheeseburger in his hand.

"What are you up to?"

Tony didn't startle or make a noise at her interruption, rather, he slowly twisted to face her, arching an eyebrow.

"You'll have to be more specific," he told her, taking a large bite from his cheeseburger.

"I know you're conspiring against me."

"Oh?" He questioned innocently.

"Yes, I'm not stupid. Sally's deliberately getting me kicked out of my hotels. It's been three in five days alone. I've spent all morning trying to find a replacement, but it seems word's spread and when they hear my name, they suddenly have no rooms available. So, now, I'm homeless, annoyed, exhausted and starving, so don't play games with me today. I haven't got the patience. Why are you conspiring against me?"

His innocent expression morphed into a grin. "Who's your favourite billionaire?"

"Bill Gates," she deadpanned.

"Well, that wasn't very nice," he pouted. "I guess I'll tell this news to him instead."

"Tony," she warned, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes. "Get to the point."

He cleared his throat dramatically. "I've found you housing."

"Excuse me?" She questioned in surprise, blinking slowly.

He grinned. "I've found you a condo. Three bedrooms, two baths, terrace balcony, utility room, kitchen and dining area, living room, a fireplace, private parking, great security and an added bonus of an indoor pool and gym," he listed. "Oh, and pets are allowed," he added.

Hermione blinked, his words slowly setting in.

"Who's your favourite billionaire?" He asked smugly.

"Oh God! You are!" Her voice rose in excitement and she couldn't help herself. In her excitement, she closed the little distance between them and pulled Tony into a bone-crushing hug, the billionaire releasing an oomph of surprise.

"Shit! For someone so small, you've got the strength of a grizzly bear," he remarked.

"Oh, sorry," she said sheepishly, releasing him and seeing him take a deep breath. "That's amazing," she said excitedly. "Where is it? How much is it going to cost me?"

"Not far," he assured her. "'Bout a fifteen minute drive from here, unless you hit traffic which you will, so actually, double that. As for the price...I know the developing company; I've bought property from them before, so I did some negotiating to convince them to lower the listing price."

Hermione felt her face fall. It was out of her budget. She knew it.

"How much?" She asked knowingly.

"An estimate's between two and three hundred thousand above budget. But it is worth it, and they did lower the price significantly," he assured her. "And in a few years, if you decide to sell it, with inflation and all that shit, it might be worth more than what you paid."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she nibbled at her lip in thought, mentally working out if she could free up some extra money by shifting about her accounts and assets.

"Okay," she nodded slowly. "I think that's doable, I'd have to speak to my accountant but it shouldn't be too much of an issue. When can I move in?"

"Yeah, about that..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"What?" Her eyes narrowed.

"It's not built yet."

"What!"

He winced at the squeak in her voice before taking a step back from her when she looked about ready to strangle him.

"Construction's begun but it's not expected to be finished for ten months. That's why the price isn't definite, once construction's complete, you'll have the option to choose your own decor. You said you wanted to put your own stamp on it, right? Now you can. You chose the colour scheme, theme, furniture, even the flooring and kitchen. And your choices are what affect the final price. Despite it not yet being finished, it's popular with the big wigs and celebrities, so there's a high demand and I had to pull a few strings to get you on the list. Because of you, Paul McCartney's lost his spot," he grinned. "How's that for a day's work?"

"That's all well and good, Tony, and I appreciate your help, but you're missing the big glaring problem of my being homeless for the next ten months. I've been blacklisted from all of the hotels in the surrounding area, and I don't want to fork out a tonne of money to rent a property when I'm potentially spending over two million on buying one. I admit I do have the funds that will allow me to do so, but I'd rather not. I'm comfortable because I'm careful."

"But you won't be homeless. I've thought of that, too," he told her, smiling smugly. "You can stay here."

"Aside from the fact I've already told you that I don't wish to live where I work, there's the issue with the fact my 'bedroom' is now missing its furniture and it's been converted into a storage room, for items I'm unaware of."

"Ah, I forgot to tell you, the equipment arrived this morning."

"What equipment?"

"The extra equipment you ordered for your lab."

"I didn't order any extra equipment," she told him flatly.

"No? You sure? Never mind, at least it's there if you need it," he smiled innocently.

"I'm too tired to deal with this today," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and feeling the exhausted sting of her eyes. Merlin, did she need sleep. And caffeine. And food.

"Come on, there's something I want to show you."

He gestured for her to follow him and as he stepped around her and left the room, he threw the cheeseburger wrapper in the bin by the door. Sighing and rolling her eyes to herself, she trailed after him, her mouth twitching in amusement when he paused for a brief moment by the couch so he might give Sally a scratch behind the ear in greeting.

When he continued forward, Hermione realised he was leading her down a small corridor that split into two and he turned left, stopping before a door. Looking over his shoulder and giving her a smirk, he nudged the door open before stepping aside, allowing her to enter first.

Giving him a suspicious look, she reluctantly stepped inside, briefly noting that it held the same white and grey modern theme as the remainder of the Tower. Her eyes slowly took in the floor to ceiling windows that made up the entirety of one wall, showing a view of the city, and the detailed, metal-framed queen-sized bed that sat in the centre of the room and against the wall with a white gloss bedside table and lamp sat atop, all of it perched on a raised platform that required three steps to be climbed. She noted the comfortable-looking armchair in the corner of the room and the large shelving unit that would comfortably sit a large number of books. In the left-hand corner sat a large platform and tower, completed with everything a feline might want or need to be comfortable and entertained. And two doors were on the left, one leading to a bathroom and the other a walk-in wardrobe.

Peculiarly, the room still had that new paint smell and all of the furniture looked to be in great condition, which meant it hadn't been used often or it was all newly bought.

Feeling Tony's presence behind her, she slowly turned to face him, seeing that he'd propped his shoulder against the wall and folded his arms over his chest, his eyes carefully surveying her expression and reaction.

"Welcome home, Roomie."

"What?!" She spluttered.

He arched an eyebrow. "Well, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting," he said in disappointment. "I was looking forward to the 'Thank you, Tony, you're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you, you're my hero.'"

"I would never say that," she scowled at him. "I'm not a damsel in distress, never have been, and I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone to be my hero."

"A little gratitude would be nice."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tony, I am grateful. But I can't stay here."

"Why not?" He challenged. "You spend more time here than you do anywhere else, both in and out of work hours," he reminded. "And technically you won't be living where you work, 'cause your lab's on the floor below."

"I work in this Tower, where my lab is located," she argued.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. "I don't understand why you're being so difficult. I've saved you the commute and the hassle of finding a place that accepts animals. What other options have you got?"

He pushed away from the wall and took his leave, Hermione watching as he disappeared from view. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes darting about the room once more, growing lost in her thoughts.

Admittedly, she didn't have any other options available and she would struggle to find a quick replacement, especially one that was in her price range and that allowed pets. The location wasn't so much of an issue seeing as she apparated to work, not that he knew that of course.

Whilst she'd grown to know that Tony was kind-hearted no matter how hard he tried to hide it, she couldn't understand his motives behind his current actions. Yes, they were friends but still... Allowing her to live with him for ten months? Was he lonely? She wondered.

A man like Tony, he worked insanely long hours, just as she did. He was incredibly smart, a certified genius, which meant he struggled to find people to converse with on topics most wouldn't and couldn't understand, her included. But with his fame and wealth, she knew from experience that it was difficult to trust people. It was difficult to determine who was truly a friend and who was simply using you for their own benefit, for the money, fame and connections. And living a life like that... It was incredibly lonely.

Hermione understood, even before she'd moved she'd felt alone, especially since she and her friends had all grown up and started their own careers and families. Life got in the way and made it hard to stay in contact no matter how hard they tried. And since leaving England, she always felt alone because very few knew of her true identity and her magic, and no one knew the true extent of her background or suffering. And those were things she couldn't share because she didn't trust anyone enough to do so. Even when she'd been surrounded by assistants and Agents, whether they knew of her or not, she felt alone.

But since starting with Stark Industries and developing a friendship with Tony, she admitted that she felt less lonely. That she felt more understood. Here was a man who'd suffered, maybe not as she had, but he'd still felt pain and betrayal. Here was a man that didn't offer his trust freely, here was a man that was cautious with those he revealed himself to, and she was one of them. She wondered if he felt less alone, too.

Tony was a friend, a good friend, a very good friend and even with secrets between them, they understood each other better than most. And she did spend more time at the Tower than anywhere else, whether it be in her lab and eating dinner with Tony and watching a movie before returning to her hotel.

Drawing away from her thoughts, she gave herself a mental shake before following after Tony, finding him on the couch with Sally sprawled across his lap as he distractedly ran his hand through her fur.

She took a seat, sinking into the cushions and tugging her legs beneath her, being sure to keep her shoe-clad feet hanging over the edge. She folded her arms around her stomach and twisted to face him, seeing him lifting his gaze from the ground and to her.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You're my friend. You're in a bit of a jam and I have the solution," he shrugged one shoulder. Hermione thought he actually looked a little disappointed.

Perhaps he was lonely all up in his big Tower.

Her decision made, she said, "Let's talk rent."

Tony's head snapped to her, his eyes widening a fraction. "What?" He questioned, looking as though he believed himself to have misheard her.

"Rent, we need to discuss payment," she clarified.

She didn't imagine the way his eyes lit up and his mouth tugged into a smile, his entire being seeming to brighten considerably.

"I don't expect you to pay rent, Granger."

"Tough luck. I don't expect to allow you to let me stay here rent-free, especially with the monthly wage you give me."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not paying rent. I won't take a dime off you."

"Fine, then I'll buy the groceries," she compromised.

"Jarvis orders everything and has it delivered, payment's already taken care of. If there's something you want specifically, just ask him to add it to the list before Monday, which is when we can expect delivery."

"Oh, you're a pain in the arse," she grumbled, standing to her feet and storming to the lift.

"See ya later, Roomie," he called after her.

She didn't need to know that the only reason she was blacklisted from every hotel in Manhattan was that he had made it so.

She didn't need to know that her bedroom had once been a closet, one he'd had converted solely for her.

And neither did she need to know that the only reason she'd gotten on the buyer's list for the condo was that he'd bought the project from the previous developers, giving them a profit before it was even complete, and allowing him to give Hermione her dream home, even if he had to adjust the planning and blueprints to do so.

~000~000~000~

"Hey, Tony!" Hermione called, being unsurprised when she received no response, the genius billionaire being just as bad as her, if not worse, when it came to being absorbed by his work. "Jarvis? Might you tell Tony that I need to see him?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger," replied the AI.

Happy that Tony would soon make an appearance no matter how busy he was, (whenever she requested his presence, he always showed up and she made sure to show the same courtesy) she distractedly hummed to herself as she drained the boiling water from the pan and then dished out the vegetables amongst the three plates that sat on the kitchen island before her, placing a subtle Warming Charm over it to keep them warm.

Putting the pan aside so she might wash it later, she turned her attention to mashing the potatoes, barely having started when Tony appeared from his work station, looking as though he hadn't slept since the day before, and she knew he hadn't. He'd been working on some exciting new project that had kept all of his attention, and despite how big the 92nd floor was, the sound of him working late into the early morning had carried to her room. She'd pulled him away for breakfast and shoved caffeine and food down his throat and although he hadn't eaten much due to him being too excited to get back to his work, she hadn't argued as he'd at least eaten something.

"What's up, Roomie?"

She rolled her eyes at the new moniker, something he'd been using for almost a week. It was Sunday, bringing it to a total of five days since she'd accepted Tony's offer and became his roommate.

In all honesty, Hermione had expected to believe it to be a bad idea and that she'd have to search for other options. She knew how annoying and difficult Tony could be and she knew that she was no angel to live with, and she thought that being in close quarters with him all the time would create a bad, tense atmosphere between them. And whilst she did previously spend most of her time at the Tower, she did return to her hotels to allow for a reprieve, no matter how long or short it had been.

But in those five days of her living with him, honestly? Nothing had changed. They still ate breakfast together, they still talked and bickered, they still ate dinner and watched TV and they still played card and board games. The only difference now is that when she retired for the night, she settled in the room down the corridor rather than apparating to her hotel. It was nice, not being alone all the time.

And Sally loved her new home. She was given free rein and she divided her time between napping on the couch, her lab and Tony's work station. She was coming out of her shell and Hermione had even seen her venturing further about the Tower, having spotted her in the foyer late the other night when she'd gone down to collect her and Tony's dinner from the delivery driver. The guards had been trying to shoo her back onto the street, believing her to be either a stray or a lost, wandering cat.

She hadn't been able to resist as she leaned against the wall, amusedly watching her little fluff-ball run circles around the three guards. Literally. She darted between their legs and avoided they outstretched hands as they shuffled and skidded across the marble floor in an attempt to catch her, one of the guards actually losing his footing whilst the other two collided and knocked each other to the ground. It was like witnessing something from a children's cartoon.

Only when Sally darted over to her and rubbed against her ankles, looking up at her and releasing a pleased meow, did the guards notice her presence and they all climbed to their feet, brushing down their uniform and looking embarrassed.

After explaining that Sally wasn't a stray but her cat that lived in the Tower and she had free rein to venture where she might wish so long as it wasn't dangerous, (something Tony had said to the feline over dinner her first night there) she headed back to the lift with Sally and their dinner in hand.

The moment she stepped onto the 92nd floor, laughing to herself, she'd drawn Tony's attention. She'd asked Jarvis to pull the security footage for the last ten minutes and she and Tony had had a good laugh watching the scene in its entirety, Hermione noting that it had been going on longer than she'd thought when she'd arrived in the foyer. That night, Tony had shared his food with Sally without complaint and the next morning, a black bandana had been fastened around Sally's neck, depicting a large, glowing blue Stark Industries logo. The idea being that anyone in the building that saw her exploring would know she belonged to Stark Industries and would leave her be. Tony was adamant that Sally be the new mascot.

"Here, finish this for me, my arm's hurting."

She turned away from the counter with both the pan and potato masher in hand before setting it before Tony as he came to a stop by the kitchen island. His eyes darted between her and the half-mashed potatoes.

"What?"

"Mash the potatoes, it's not rocket science, something I know you're capable of," she rolled her eyes, turning her back to him and removing the milk from the fridge before collecting the butter, setting them both on the kitchen island, watching as Tony eyed the utensil in his hand as though it were a foreign object that might kill him. "Seriously? Use that to mash the potatoes. I'm tiny, you've more upper body strength than I do."

His brow furrowed as he did as she asked, Hermione sniggering to herself at his confused, lost expression.

"Keep going," she encouraged, "It doesn't have to be perfect; when I add the milk and butter it'll smooth it out and make it creamy."

"What're the orange chunks?"

"Turnip."

"Turnip?"

"You've never had turnip and mash potato?" She questioned in surprise. "It won't disappoint," she promised.

"What're you cooking? Why are you cooking? I thought we agreed on Thai tonight? I didn't even know you could cook."

"I didn't have much of a reason to cook," she shrugged. "When I broke up with Ron, I lived by myself, and then I moved here a few years later. I had to learn to cook 'cause Ron refused, so his mother taught me, not that I didn't enjoy it. It was the reason why, I didn't appreciate. At SHIELD, I got my meals from the cafeteria, when here we order in and at the hotel, I ordered room service. As for why, I've had enough of takeaway and fast food, to be honest, I'm starting to feel sluggish and just... Unhealthy. I've missed having a home-cooked meal, and I can't remember the last time I had a Sunday dinner. Now that there's two of us, I thought I might make the effort, introduce you to new experiences, and us Brits, we're known for and are very protective of our Sunday dinners."

"So this is going to be a recurring thing?" He arched an eyebrow, lifting his gaze from the mashed potatoes and to her.

"Yep," she popped the 'p', "At least, I'm going to try and aim for one Sunday dinner every week, and possibly three cooked meals a week, including breakfast. There's only so much bacon and eggs I can take."

"Alright," he agreed, "I'm not opposed to cooked dinners, but if you turn out to be a shit cook, don't be surprised if I revert back to cheeseburgers and Chinese."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she snorted. "That should do it," she told him, taking the pan from him, Tony watching as she carefully added the precise amount of milk and butter she wished before once more mashing it all together. "How d'you like your mash, smooth or with some chunks?"

"Edible," he shrugged.

"Smooth it is," she rolled her eyes, being unsurprised when he took the pan from her and continued with the mashing of the potatoes, milk and butter, seeing that she appeared to be struggling with both her lack of upper body strength and the height of the kitchen island making it harder for her to find her grounding.

"Why're there three plates?"

"Happy," she answered, her tone all but saying she thought that was obvious.

"You spoil him," he remarked.

"That man deserves a raise for putting up with you all the time," she defended.

"Rude," he huffed, narrowing his eyes slightly when she smiled innocently.

It was true, she'd come to understand that not only was Happy his personal bodyguard and chauffeur, but he was more or less his personal assistant, too. The poor man was always run ragged as he completed Tony's long list of errands, whether it be collecting breakfast from their favourite diner, organising his mail or retrieving his dry cleaning. She'd actually seen him changing a light bulb and washing the dishes at one point, too.

"You're no walk in the park either."

"I don't know what you mean, I'm a ray of sunshine," she arrogantly flipped her hair over her shoulder and Tony snorted at her. "That looks about done," she noted, taking the pan from him before dividing the mashed potato onto the three plates.

"You didn't say what you were making," he reminded.

"Well, I did consider chicken or lamb, but decided against it, as I did with bangers and mash. So, I settled on mince and dumplings."

"Never heard of it," he told her, folding his arms on the surface of the kitchen island and leaning forward.

"Didn't think you would have," she nodded. "It's more of a Northern dish, more popular with the North and North East parts of England, like Yorkshire and Newcastle way," she explained. "I once heard someone describe a dumpling as a crispy bread cake," she shrugged. "I don't see it myself, but to each their own. If they're cooked right, they should be soft and fluffy in the middle and slightly crunch on the top. As for the mince, it's ground beef that's cooked in gravy. My Gran used to make it every time we visited when I was a child. She prided herself on her dumplings, she always entered the neighbourhood competition and she won ten years consecutively before she died. So not only is this a secret family recipe, but, it's a champion recipe. And it's all made from scratch, no packet mix here."

"Then I'll be judging harshly," he warned.

"I'm not worried," she assured him. "I know you're going to love this. But don't judge a book by its cover."

"Okay...?"

"Aesthetically, it looks like sick on a plate."

He grimaced. "Okay, that decides it, Jarvis, order my usual from..."

"No," Hermione interrupted with an unhappy expression. "I've been stood in this kitchen for the last two hours and this morning I went out to buy everything fresh. And not only that, but I had to buy a new pyrex dish and a potato masher because you didn't have one. Suck it up, it might not look appealing, but the taste more than makes up for it."

Pushing away from the kitchen island, she turned and reached for the oven mitts before drawing the steaming dish from the oven, giving the door a little nudge with her foot to close it behind her. She set the dish before Tony, the billionaire eyeing the dumplings, mince and gravy with some interest.

"Well, it doesn't smell bad," he mused.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

With a ladle, she divided the mince and dumplings between the plates before dousing the food in gravy. Placing everything off to the side on the counter by the sink and setting Happy's plate in the oven to keep it warm for when he returned from completing Tony's errands, she retrieved knives and forks from the correct drawer, as well as Tony's beverage of choice from the fridge, before they both took seats on the stools beside one another.

Hermione waited for Tony to take his first taste before she set to eating her own, sniggering when he winced at the hot temperature of the food. He chewed slowly and thoughtfully, more than likely just trying to wind her up.

"Is the verdict in?"

Tony turned to look at her, his expression serious, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Where the Hell have you been all my life?"

"Britain," she chirped, happily making a start on her dinner and she didn't want to toot her own horn, but she'd outdone herself this time.

"It's weird," he commented, breaking a section of dumpling off and holding it up to his line of sight as he examined the fluffy texture and crunchy surface. "But I like it," he decided, putting it into his mouth. "So, what am I looking forward to with these home-cooked meals of yours?"

"That depends, do you want generic meals or British classics?"

"What's on offer?"

"Fish and chips is easy enough to make but it's never the same as getting it from a chip shop," she began. "Bangers and mash, toad in the hole, beef wellington, pie, peas and chips, casseroles and stews, meat pies... I could go on forever." He blinked slowly. "You've been to London before, haven't you? I'm sure I remember an article about you meeting with the Prime Minister. What did you eat?"

"Cheeseburgers," he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me."

She turned towards the lift when the doors opened and an exhausted-looking Happy stepped out with garment bags gripped in his hand as he carried them over his shoulder.

"'Bout time, you've been gone hours," Tony said in lieu of a greeting.

Hermione barely looked at him as she smacked him on the arm with the back of her hand. "I'm sure he worked as quickly as he could," she defended. "Happy, dinner's in the oven."

"Dinner?" The bodyguard perked up.

"A British classic, mince and dumplings."

He all but darted to the couch, draped the garments bags over the back of it and then moved to the kitchen, barely remembering to use the oven mitt to grab the plate from the oven.

"Slow down, you'll choke," warned Hermione, seeing the way Happy inhaled his food, almost as if he wasn't even chewing it.

"Sorry, I'm starving," he mumbled around the food in his mouth. "I haven't eaten since six o'clock this morning."

Hermione sent Tony a telling look and the billionaire dramatically sighed.

"Happy, I'm giving you a raise."

The bodyguard nearly choked on his food.

"Are you trying to kill him?" Hermione demanded, sending him an annoyed glance.

"What? You're the one who said he deserved a pay rise," he argued.

"I did, but the obvious action to take would be to wait to tell him when he doesn't have food in his mouth. He could've died."

"Don't be so dramatic," he rolled his eyes. "And even if he did, you're a doctor."

"That's not the point. The point is you..."

"This is really good, by the way," Happy interrupted.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut mid-sentence and took a calming breath before she turned to the bodyguard. "Thank you, and I made cookies this morning. I hid them from Tony so he couldn't get his grubby mitts on them."

"What!" Cried the billionaire, giving her a look of betrayal whilst Happy grinned widely. "I want cookies! Why does he get cookies and I don't?!"

"Stop whining, you big baby, I made you brownies."

"Brownies?" He echoed hopefully.

"Yes, and I hid them so you wouldn't find them."

"Where are they?" He demanded.

"I'm not telling you."

"They're mine. You said you made them for me."

"Yes, and I did. But you're not having them now."

"But I want them now," he argued.

"You can have them after dinner. So be a good boy and eat it all up," she said as if she were talking to a child.

Happy quietly ate his food, unconcerned about their bickering as he witnessed it almost every day and had grown used to it. And admittedly, it was fun to watch.

"Well, now I don't want to."

"That's okay, Sally's doing it for you," she said lightly.

"What?!"

He lowered his gaze, seeing Sally perched on the kitchen island, her tongue lapping up the gravy from his plate. Thankfully, he'd already eaten most of his dinner and there was a little leftover if he wished to have more later.

"Seriously, where the Hell did you sneak up from? I'm getting you a damn bell," he said, his gaze locking with the feline's when she lifted her head. "Don't look at the eyes, don't look at the eyes," he chanted in a whisper to himself. Hermione and Happy shared a snigger. "Damn it!" Tony crumbled. "Go for it," he sighed, giving the smug cat his permission. "But are you Hell getting my brownies."

~000~000~000~

Later that night as they watched TV, Hermione observed Tony breaking off small sections of a brownie and feeding it to the cat that lay on his chest, happily purring.