CHAPTER TEN


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.

AN

I am so chuffed you loved overprotective Tony, and Hermione/George's relationship, it was a blast to write.

Another monster-sized chapter I hadn't intended to be so big, but anyway, enjoy!

And now, more Hermione/Tony bonding and Tony being petty with the hotel staff. The man can hold a grudge, it would seem.

Q&A

Hurricane-Chibi – Not yet, but soon.

GypsyWitchBaby – Those are some good questions, but answers won't be seen until the next chapter, possibly the chapter after depending on the content and length.

We'll see Ron and Harry get what they deserve soon enough.


Page count: 28


"Wow! Attractive," Tony remarked, looking up from the tablet that was propped up on the surface of the dining table whilst he sipped from his no doubt highly expensive blend of coffee.

Hermione scowled at him and reached up to brush her hair back from her face, her other hand covering her mouth as she yawned.

"What? You're my roommate, not my partner or boyfriend. I've no reason to impressive you or attempt to catfish you by putting on my makeup first thing in the morning before you see me. You have full, unobstructed access to my disastrous bed hair, morning displeasure and bad breath."

Tony snorted and lifted his coffee in a toast. "Amen. It's so much easier not having to put lipstick on in the morning before someone sees me."

"Idiot," she rolled her eyes, tiredly slumping into the seat across from him, once more stifling a yawn.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Rubbish," she grumbled.

He looked to her concerned. "You had that asshole playing on your mind?"

"No," she shook her head, slouching forward, folding her arms on the table and pressing her face into the crook it created. "Unfortunately, being with them brings back unpleasant memories of the past."

"And those would be?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Something truly horrific and traumatising."

"You went to a posh, private boarding school," he pointed out.

"But that doesn't mean my experience was a good one. Far, far from it. During my school years, I was forced to face some life-threatening and life-altering decisions and situations, and no, I won't explain further, I try to avoid talking about my past as much as possible."

Tony eyed her curiously, his gaze darting between her and his tablet.

"You say you attended this school between eleven and eighteen, right?"

"Hmmm, your point?"

"So that means your friends did, too."

"And?" She questioned, slowly lifting her face from her arms and looking to him suspiciously.

"Nothing, just trying to get the facts in order," he responded innocently. "I ordered for you, tea and crumpets."

"What did I say about stereotyping me?" She scowled. "I don't even like crumpets."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Just trying to make you feel more at home."

"I'm in London, you pillock. I was born and raised here."

"Fair point," he nodded. "That's why I also ordered one of everything on the breakfast menu, just to cover my bases."

"Of course you did," she said unsurprised, standing from the table and crossing to the kitchen that was fitted with counters, cupboards and a fully stocked wine rack.

After pouring herself a cup of tea and selecting herself a portion of fresh fruit, she returned to the table, immediately noting that Tony eyed her chosen meal disapprovingly.

"I'm not that hungry," she offered with a shrug. He pursed his lips unhappily. "And have you eaten this morning?" She fired back knowingly. "Exactly, don't be a hypocrite."

Scowling, he stood from the table, headed for the kitchen and returned moments later with a number of food items sat on a plate and a knife and fork in hand.

"Happy?"

"Not really, I shouldn't have to remind you to eat. You preach self-care but don't practice what you preach."

"Shut up and eat your fruit," he grumbled, making a start on his own breakfast. "What's today's plan?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "You've got your business to think about and I'm not going anywhere near Harry or Ron."

"I've cancelled my appointments and meetings for today."

"What? Why?" She blinked slowly.

"Didn't feel like spending my Saturday in a foreign country working," he shrugged. "Besides, I've gotten what I came for."

"You found a property?"

"Two potential buildings and a patch of land I might have an office built. Before I make a final decision, I'll have the accounts team crunch the numbers and see which is more cost-efficient. Build a building from scratch, or remodel and kit-out an existing one."

"Both have their merits," she mused. "One will be more time-efficient whereas the other is more likely to be more sustainable given the recent improvements in construction materials."

"I'm not in a rush, it can take between eight months up to a year just to have the transfers arranged for existing employees, and I need someone I can trust to oversee the operation once it's underway. Stark Industries receives hundreds of thousands applications a year, the HR team will be slammed trying to determine who should make it to an interview and who shouldn't."

"And that's why I only take on free-lance work. I couldn't be bothered with the business side of things. Just let me do my job and get out of my way."

"That's why I made Pepper CEO," Tony agreed. "She's constantly on my ass about missing meetings and avoiding cooperate events, but I've more time to work on the things I want to. Anyway, since you're avoiding your friends, and rightly so, and I'm not working today, I thought you might be a good host and show me 'round the city."

She arched an eyebrow. "I know you've been to London before."

"And I've seen the National History Museum, Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, the London Bridge, Big Ben and all of that touristy shit," he listed easily and Hermione rolled his eyes. "Been inside most of them too, Hell, I've met the Queen and had dinner with her... But I want to see the things tourists don't, and only someone who was born and raised here can do that."

"Sorry to say, I've got no clothes and I can't go out looking like this," she gestured to herself with a lazy wave of her hand, bringing note to the overly large clothing she wore that belonged to him. "My clothes from yesterday have disappeared."

"Already taken care of," he waved her off. "Did you know that this suite comes with a personal shopper?"

"Oh no," she groaned, dropping her face into her hands.

"Oh yes," he grinned. "And given the little snafu they made last night, they were only too accommodating when I requested a personal shopper at four-thirty in the morning."

"And my clothes?"

"How else was she to know your size?" He responded innocently.

"I dread to think what she bought me," Hermione grumbled, lifting her head and looking to him. "If you want to see things the way I do, we've got to blend in as much as possible, and if she purchases anything remotely similar to the luxury brands you wear, that's not going to happen. And know that I intend to repay you for everything."

"Nope," he popped the 'p', "This one's on the hotel. The service comes included in the price, but the clothes are paid out of the guest's pocket. This time, however, they're not trying to kiss my ass but yours, hoping that by appeasing you it'll appease me and stop me from speaking to Pisani."

"Do you even know him? Or were you just lying?"

"Of course, I know him. We played golf in Nevada last year."

"You hate golf," Hermione deadpanned.

"Most boring sport in the world," he agreed. "But Pisani loves it," he shrugged. "It's a wonder how I made it through the day."

"You poor baby," she snarked.

"As for the clothes, I'd take them if I were you, even if you don't like them. They're free."

"Really," she rolled her eyes at him. "What time is it, anyway?"

"A little after seven-thirty," he responded. "The clothes should be here by eight."

"Most places don't open until nine," she pointed out.

"I know, but that's the time they promised, if not... I'm going to enjoy making that call," he grinned. "As for you wishing to blend in..." He gestured to himself.

"Okay?" She questioned slowly.

"Look at me."

"I am."

He huffed. "I'm Iron Man."

"Love bringing that one up, don't you?" She teased.

"Every chance I get," he agreed and she sniggered at him. "How the Hell am I suppose to walk out of this hotel without someone noticing?"

"I've my ways, don't worry."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "This have something to do with these special abilities of yours that I've yet to see?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, neither admitting nor denying it. "But if I'm taking you out into the city, I choose where we go."

"Well, that's a given, and exactly what I want."

The lift dinged open and as they both leaned over the dining table to see around the door, they saw Sally step out, her fluffy tail held high as it lazily swished with every step she took.

"I wondered where she'd went," Hermione said aloud.

"Seriously! How the fuck does she do that?!" Tony demanded.

"Not a clue, I'm not even sure I want to know," Hermione shrugged. "But I'm not surprised she returned when there's food on the go... Oh, look at that, she's on the counter, sniffing at the offerings. I hope you didn't want anything else."

~000~000~000~

"Granger, we don't have all day, get your ass out here!" Tony called, stood by the lift and waiting to leave, his eyes held on the device in his hand, watching as he had Jarvis re-running the background checks he'd ordered for the fourth time.

He knew something was amiss. There was no way he was willing to accept the current findings.

"I feel ridiculous!" She called back.

"I'm sure you look fine!"

"You're not the one that's going to stick out, I am," she grumbled, reluctantly stepping from her room and navigating her way through the many rooms of the suite until she spotted Tony, leaning against the wall and dressed casually in jeans, a t-shirt, trainers and a leather jacket.

"You look great, stop complaining," he told her, shifting his phone into his pocket and pushing away from the wall.

"Right now, I'm convinced I'm wearing a year's rent for my first ever flat," she folded her arms and Tony snorted at her. "I simply chose the least expensive-looking and eye-catching items, and still, I'm going to stick out like a saw thumb!" She complained.

The personal shopper had arrived at exactly eight o'clock on the dot, the redhead's cheeks tinted pink, her chest rising and falling heavily and a frazzled expression on her face. Seeing the number of bags and the designer names that adorned them, Hermione had dreaded the reveal.

After leading the twenty-something woman to her room and ignoring Tony's sniggers at her grimace, she'd been quick to get rid of the woman, uncaring that she was determined to explain everything she'd chosen and why. Hermione didn't care. Clothes were clothes. She wore them for practicality, to simply keep her warm and covered, not to impress anyone or boast about her financial standing.

Hermione had never seen so many bags of clothing and she was unsure of how the redhead had gotten her hands on the clothes given the time Tony had requested her services and that the retail shops had yet to open.

After going through the many items, ranging from jumpers to jeans to shoes to jewellery, she'd chosen the items she hoped were the least recognisable and would allow her to better blend in.

As such, she stood before Tony wearing black Jimmy Choo knee-length boots, dark Vivianne Westwood jeans, a white cashmere jumper by Tom Ford, a matching Jimmy Choo handbag sat over her shoulder, and to complete the look, a dark trench coat by Burberry.

"You look a million bucks," Tony complimented with a shrug.

"That's probably what all of this cost," she argued and he snorted. "And she didn't buy me any practical underwear," she scowled, subtly reaching up to readjust her bra. "Only bloody lingerie."

"Really?" Tony's eyebrow arched and his mouth twitched. "Care to offer a peak?"

"Not a chance in Hell," she shot him a withering glare.

"Worth a try."

"This," she gestured to her clothing with a wave of her hand, "This is just begging someone to mug me."

"Not when you've got Iron Man by your side."

"No one's going to know it's you, remember?" She reminded him.

"And how do you plan for me to blend in?"

"I have my ways. Let's go before I change my mind."

Approaching, she stepped into the lift and Tony followed behind her, descending to the foyer and Tony led the way to the front desk, the young man behind the counter almost falling off his seat in his haste to stand to his feet and greet them, or more so Tony.

"Mr. Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name, a second older man seemed to appear from nowhere. If Hermione didn't know any better she'd have thought he'd apparated in.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark, I'm Gerald Collinson, the day manager," he greeted. Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Miss. Granger," he tipped his head.

"Doctor," Tony corrected automatically, his face blank and expressionless.

"My apologies," he apologised quickly. "I do hope Miss. Simpson fulfilled her responsibilities to your liking."

"She was quite efficient," she responded, her tone clipped but polite.

The manager visibly looked relieved. "Wonderful. Mr. Stark, your car is waiting for you in the private parking bays. Harold will be your chauffer this day."

"I don't require a driver, just the car."

The manager blinked slowly, taken aback for a moment. "Oh, of course," he cleared his throat. "I will alert Harold at once, and I will have a member of staff escort you to the underground parking bays."

"No need," Tony interrupted. "Just point me in the right direction and we'll be fine."

"Yes, Mr. Stark," the manager nodded before he proceeded to give them directions.

"One more thing," Tony began, pausing in his steps to leave. "Why did I find strawberries amongst my breakfast?"

"Strawberries?" The manager echoed in confusion.

"Yes, I made it very clear that Dr. Granger is fatally allergic," Tony said gravely.

The manager paled and looked about ready to keel over and die.

"Mr. Stark, I can only apologise. I will speak to the kitchen staff immediately and ensure the appropriate course of action is taken."

"Good."

He reached behind him and slipped his fingers around her wrist, tugging her away from the desk and making the journey towards the underground parking structure, camera flashes going off behind them.

"What was all that about?" Hermione asked in confusion. "I'm not allergic to strawberries."

He peered at her over his shoulder, his mouth twitching into a smirk. "He doesn't know that."

She sighed. "You're not letting this go, are you?"

"With the way they treated you? No."

When they reached their destination, a member of staff handed them the car keys and pointed them in the direction of bay 12, bringing them to a sleek black Audi with tinted windows.

"Why'd you request a car when you have Happy? Actually, where is he?" Hermione questioned as they neared the car.

"Gave him the weekend off to explore the city and play tourist," he shrugged. "The car and chauffeur come with the suite, and with Happy driving the SUV, the press will be following him, expecting me to be with him."

"Smart," she nodded.

"Genius," he pointed to himself and she rolled her eyes. "So, you're driving today," he told her, setting the keys in her hand and heading for the driver's side door.

"Tony, wrong door," she reminded. "We drive on the left, driver's seat's on the right."

"One of the reason's I'm not driving," he responded, correcting his mistake and rounding the car to the passenger's side. "Also, you're the tour guide so you drive."

"I'd intended on walking. Parking in the city's a damn nightmare."

"Park wherever you want; I'll pay the parking tickets," he shrugged, unconcerned. "Better yet, the hotel will."

Sighing, she slipped off her bag and set it in the back seat before climbing into the driver's seat, fastening her seatbelt and switching on the ignition.

"So, where to first?"

"Well, it's not even nine o'clock in the morning, it's Autumn and freezing, so there's only one place to go to start off our day. And before we do, put this on."

She produced a pewter ring from her pocket and held it out in offering.

"Why?" He eyed it cautiously, curiously.

"If you wish to go unnoticed, you'll wear it."

"And how is that supposed to help me blend in?"

"It's a secret."

"I hate you," he grumbled, taking the ring from her and slipping it on his middle finger. "Whoa!" Tony shuddered. "What was that? It felt like someone was walking over my grave," he grimaced.

"Then it's working, we best go, traffic this time of day's going to be murder."

~000~000~000~

"Starbucks?" He deadpanned.

"Yep," she popped the 'p', her hands stashed in her pockets to fend off the morning chill as they stood outside the well-known coffee shop. "Lesson number one, as I've said before, not every Brit likes tea and you'll be hard-pressed to not find a Starbucks on every street corner. London is much like New York in that regard. So, in you go," she shooed him inside and as they waited in line, she could see Tony getting antsy, both from having to wait and from trying to figure out how and why he wasn't being recognised.

After Tony ordered an overly sweet coffee and Hermione her tea, they took their leave, leisurely walking down the street.

"Today, I've decided to show you something I've never shown anyone else."

Tony looked to her, arching an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"I'm not telling you yet, and I'm trying to work up the courage into actually doing it."

"Why?" His brow furrowed.

"Because it's a painful reminder of what I lost."

~000~000~000~

The day passed slowly with Hermione showing Tony around the city, taking him to her favourite book shops, showing him her favourite cafes and restaurants, sitting by the River Thames as Tony tried his first official authentic fish and chips lunch, (something he'd loved and swore he'd have a fish and chips shop built in New York) and casually strolling down the streets.

After returning to the car, Tony's eyes barely left Hermione as he watched her programme an address into the GPS and she started on her journey, being uncharacteristically silent for most of the half-hour drive.

When she pulled onto a quiet, suburban-like street occupied by semi-detached two-story houses, his eyes looked to her questioningly but he received no answer as she kept her eyes forward. She came to a stop at the side of the road and climbed out of the car, Tony following her as she took a seat on a wooden bench that was placed by a large patch of grass which he could both see and hear children playing with a ball and skipping ropes.

She folded her hands in her pockets and crossed one leg over the other whilst he sat with his knees apart, his hands in his pockets and slouched slightly.

"What are we doing here?" He finally asked.

"This is where it all began," she replied quietly, her eyes locked on the house directly before her across the street.

It had a white door and window panes, a small garden lined with bushes and trees, a gravel pathway and hanging baskets by the door.

"We're in Richmond. This is my childhood home."

Tony blinked slowly in surprise, his eyes darting between the house and her. It wasn't at all what he'd imagined. It seemed too... Plain. Boring. Normal. Hermione Granger was anything but.

"I lived here for seventeen years, my parents almost thirty. The reason I'm an only child is that my parents struggled to conceive, my mother suffered two miscarriages and when they agreed they'd have to try other options should they wish to have children, my mother discovered she was pregnant with me. I was their miracle baby."

Tony observed her closely, her voice quiet but controlled, her expression calm and blank, but her eyes... Pain. Trauma. Guilt. Longing.

"As a young child I was doted on, spoilt rotten, but when I started reception and as I aged they often worked later hours, spent more time at the practice... They were dentists, both of them," she told him.

Again, Tony had not expected to discover her parents had such normal careers.

"They were very strict on oral hygiene, as you can imagine. They never let me have candy as a kid," her mouth twitched. "Because they worked so much, they missed quite a lot of my life, more so when I went off to Hogwarts. During the school holidays, I spent most of my time with Harry and Ron at school, or with Ron's family. I loved my parents but our relationship was strained the moment McGonagall showed up at my door. You see," she paused, taking a breath and for some reason, Tony found himself holding his own. "I'm different. Very different. When I was younger, strange things used to happen to and around me and it wasn't until she came for a visit that we finally knew what it was. And that day, I learned that I wasn't alone. I learned there was a whole hidden community of people that were just like me, that could do the things I could. From that day, my parents tried to understand what I was but I know it was difficult for them. They couldn't do the things I could, they weren't allowed to see the wonderful things I had access to. And that strained our relationship. It's one of the reasons I hardly returned home in my later years at Hogwarts, and why I went to Ron's. His family understood and they never treated me as anything but their daughter. They practically raised me and helped me to understand myself, helped me to not be ashamed of who I am."

He had so many questions but he didn't wish to interrupt, not when she was willingly revealing parts of her past to him, even if she was choosing her words carefully. It was still one step closer into finding out more about her and her secret-Avenger-worthy abilities.

"When I was seventeen..." She paused once more, Tony hearing the pain seeping into her voice as it cracked. "My parents died."

He felt his stomach plummet to his feet, his throat burn as bile tried to make an exit through his mouth and something cold seemed to settle around his heart. Could it get any worse?

"They were murdered."

Apparently so.

"I found their bodies."

Fuck's sake!

Silently, he slotted his arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle tug; she went willingly, shuffling closer and tilting her head to press against his shoulder and Tony set his chin atop her head.

"It was my fault."

"Don't say that," he muttered.

"It was," she whispered.

"Of course it wasn't your fault."

"It was, Tony. It was my fault because I exist. They are dead because I was born. If I weren't here, they would be alive."

"Bullshit. I don't want to live in a world where Hermione Granger doesn't exist. And neither do I believe it was your fault."

"There are things you don't understand, Tony. Big things."

"Then explain it to me."

She released a soft sigh. "I was born the way I am. The abilities I have, the things I can do, I was born with them, and it's the only way. It can't be learned or studied, or obtained through science experiments and technological advancements. And despite being born with my abilities, I was always looked down on by the majority of those I went to school with because to them, I was different."

"Your conversation with Fury...?" He left the question open.

"Yes, this is what I was referring to," she answered softly. "You see, despite being the same, each member of the community was sorted into four classifications. Squibs are those that are born from those with abilities but do not possess them themselves. Muggleborns are those that are born with their abilities but whose parents don't possess them."

"You," he surmised.

"Yes. Half-bloods are those that have ancestry on both sides. Harry's a Half-blood, his mother being a Muggleborn like me and his father a Pureblood, and Purebloods are..."

"Those with only ancestry of those born with abilities," Tony finished, nodding in understanding.

"Yes. Ronald and his family are Purebloods. Now, some, but not all, Purebloods believed that anything less was vermin, unworthy of their abilities, of living in general. They believed that Muggleborns stole their power and that was why Squibs were becoming more common."

"And they never once thought inbreeding might be the problem?" He asked sarcastically.

"Sometimes I forget how clever you are," she remarked. She hadn't even mentioned the inter-marrying in order to keep the lines 'pure'. He'd simply figured it out for himself.

"Given the current mood, I'll do my best to not be offended by that," he quipped, pulling a small laugh from her.

"No, they didn't. They were adamant it was our fault. No one knew where our abilities came from, but in the last decade, studies have been done and they started digging deeper into the ancestry of Muggleborns, and you know what they found?"

"I'm assuming the abilities gene in the ancestry but further done the line," he guessed.

"Exactly! So, I did some digging of my own and I discovered that after going back eight generations on my father's side, there was a Squib. And as each generation was birthed, that ancestry carried over, the gene slowly building in strength into it was strong enough to present itself."

"And it did that in you."

"It did," she confirmed. "From what they've discovered, the gene never truly dies out. It simply retreats and rebuilds until it's able to manifest in a new host."

"That makes it sound like a parasite," he joked and she snorted.

"My peers, the majority of them made my life a living Hell at Hogwarts. They bullied me not only on my appearance but my parentage. They believed themselves above me and because I held the top spot in my year for academics for six consecutive years, they hated me more than most Muggleborns. They believed me worthless, an abomination, and yet, I was academically above them. I know some of them were punished by their parents. Do you get it now? My parents were murdered because they didn't have abilities and I do."

"It's not your fault," he reiterated confidently. "The people responsible?"

"Dead," she answered flatly.

"I've noticed you're using past tense terms. So what changed? Did things get better for you?"

"Not yet," she breathed out. "I'm not emotionally ready to speak about it. In my community, it's a given that everyone knows what happened and children are taught it at school. But there are very few people who know the true extent of the things that happened to me, and they are kept that way because of how traumatic and horrific they are."

His hold tightened on her automatically.

"I brought you here because I wanted you to see this part of my life. And because I need support."

"For?"

"For what I'm about to do."

She slipped out from under his arm and rose to her feet, lifting her head high and crossing the street. She opened the metal gate and walked down the pathway, Tony watching as she knocked on the door and a twenty-something brunette opened it shortly after.

He couldn't hear what was being said and he couldn't see their interactions clearly either, but he did see the woman pull Hermione into a hug before she saw her off with a wave.

"What was all that about?" He asked once she'd retaken her seat beside him.

"It's time that I let go. It's been fifteen years, I can't keep holding onto this house."

"You own it?"

"They left me the house, cars and dentist practice. I sold the cars and business, but I couldn't bring myself to the sell the house; it was my childhood home. When I was twenty-one, I decided that I didn't want it sitting empty and I didn't believe myself capable of stepping foot through the door after what'd happened, so I rented it out. Chloe's been living here with her husband and two children for almost eight years. She's been asking for years if I'd consider selling it."

"And you're going to," he said knowingly.

She nodded. "It's not mine anymore, it's theirs now. They've made it a home again. A house filled with laugher and love rather than screams and trauma."

"It worth much?" He asked nosily.

"London is much like New York for property, especially depending on the area. How much do you think?"

"What am I working with?"

"A nice neighbourhood, a school within walking distance, a local supermarket, nearby park, three bedrooms, living room, kitchen and dining room, converted loft space, two baths, an office, a back garden and a garage which is concealed by the bushes."

"Given I'm not all that familiar with the property market for the country, let alone the area, and taking into inflation and drops in the market, I'll estimate between six and six-fifty."

She nodded. "It's been valued at five-fifty to seven hundred thousand, mostly due to the modifications. Given that they've been my tenants for almost eight years, I've agreed to knock off all they've paid me in rent from the original price, and it'll be rent to buy; that way they avoid having to take out a mortgage and potential debt should they no longer be financially stable, and they may take as long as they wish to buy it. My parents would be happy it's a home again."

"I understand this was hard for you to do, so thank you for sharing it with me. What made you do it?"

"I'm not confident you're ready to hear the full truth yet but I felt it was time I told you something, even if I redacted some of the details. You deserved to know a little more about me."

"Trust me, I'm ready."

"Trust me," she repeated. "You're not."

~000~000~000~

"What're we doing here?"

"As we're nearing the end of our day, no tour is complete without a trip on the London Eye."

"So, you'll get on that without issue, but you'll have a fit when you get anywhere near my jet?"

"I'm terrified of flying, not heights," she shrugged, her hands stuffed in her pockets as she led the way towards the large attraction.

"The only guaranteed way of getting on it before it closes for the night is booking in advance, which neither of us did. I don't even think I would be able to get us access. And we sure as Hell won't make it time standing in that big-ass queue," said Tony, gesturing to the long line of tourists up ahead. "So, tell me, Doc, what's your plan?"

"That's a secret," she responded, heading straight past the queue and towards a second, smaller queue. The fast track lane.

There were very few people in front of them and when they reached the attraction worker, he looked to them expectantly, wishing to see their pass. Tony, knowing they didn't have one, eyed Hermione closely as she removed her hand from her pocket and held up a single golden coin, but it was bigger than any coin he'd seen. Unfortunately, he couldn't clearly see the engraved markings but whatever the young man saw had his eyes widening and his mouth parting.

He stuttered twice before managing to get his words out, and minutes later when the next pod arrived and emptied of its occupants, Hermione and Tony were granted unobstructed access.

"What was that? What did you show him?" He asked suspiciously, his eyes darting between the young man and Hermione's pocket where she'd stashed the gold coin.

"Something you're not ready to know about," she responded, moving away from the door and taking a seat on the wooden bench that sat in the centre of the large pod. Tony noticed they were the only two occupants, the young man having no intentions of allowing anyone else access.

He took a seat on the opposite side, his brow furrowed in thought as they waited for the pod to ascend higher so they might see more of the city.

"If I've timed it right, we'll see the sunset," Hermione broke the silence, standing from the bench and moving closer to the window, looking out over the city as they slowly rose higher. "I'm going to share something with you."

"I'm listening."

He stood and moved to stand beside her, his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused forward, noting the darkening sky nearing.

"My mission for Fury."

His head automatically snapped towards her, seeing the corner of her mouth twitch and she kept her gaze resolutely forward.

"You signed an NDA," he pointed out. "I bugged you for weeks to tell me what you were up to and you refused every time."

"Now it's different."

"Why?"

"I trust you," she confessed softly, her head slowly turning until their gazes locked, Hermione witnessing his surprise at her statement. "I trust you with my life, I trust you with my secrets and most importantly, Sally trusts you. And she doesn't like anyone. That in itself was a big indicator."

He cleared his throat and readjusted his jacket before folding his arms over his chest and squaring his shoulders. Her mouth twitched in amusement.

"Out with it," he ordered. "What took seven days?"

Her expression dimmed and her eyes fell downcast, something he noticed instantly.

"You know I was an analyst for SHIELD but you don't know what I analysed, and I can't tell you yet either. However, I wasn't just an analyst. When the situation called for it, and on some rare occasions, I was the last option available. When you rooted through SHIELD's systems, did you happen to find a reference to Code Leo?"

Tony's brow furrowed in concentration, his mind shifting through his memories of the day he'd gotten bored and decided to teach Fury a lesson after he'd hired amateurs to provide security for SHIELD's classified materials.

"Once or twice," he nodded slowly. "And whilst it was mentioned in some reports, it was never explained in any detail."

"I am Code Leo."

He blinked slowly. "Okay?" He drew out the word.

"You know both Fury and SHIELD's got their hands in many honey pots, some they'll admit to and others they won't. They've got agents everywhere, staking out and tracking certain individuals and reporting back to the head office so records can be kept up to date. Recently, with the advances in technology and weapons, they've been getting involved with threats to national security, weapons dealers, terrorists and etcetera. I'm not entirely certain on the details, I just know that something went horribly wrong with one of SHIELD's undercover operations, putting more than one hundred lives at risk. They'd gotten everyone out that they could, many had already been captured, tortured and killed but there were fourteen agents unaccounted for as well as two level 7 agents, one of whom, you might have come across in the mainframe."

"Care to spill?"

"Clint Barton, Hawkeye."

"Isn't he a candidate for the Avengers?" His eyebrows lifted.

"He is," Hermione agreed. "A giant pain in the arse, too, always loved to show up at my lab and annoy the Hell out of me until I threatened him with actions far worse than anything I did to you during our prank war, but he's a good man. He's usually more careful but this time he'd gotten in too deep. Again, I don't know what they were doing and I don't care to know, but something went wrong and they were both captured. I don't just have one specific ability; I have many. Too many to name, but my abilities make me the perfect one-woman rescue and extraction team when against those that aren't like me. With Clint and the other agent being the highest level agents unaccounted for, I was to find them and rescue them first. It took me two days to track them to an underground bunker in Oslo. It took me three hours to compile a full list of the enemy's weaknesses after observation, half an hour to do a perimeter search, just under an hour to incapacitate everyone in the bunker, and half an hour to reach both of them and take them to the extraction point. They were both pretty beat up with internal damage, fractured bones and dehydration."

"You went up against terrorists?! By yourself!" Tony's voice rose in both disbelief and anger. "What the fuck was Fury thinking dragging you into that kind of shit?!" He demanded. He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and removed an earpiece, slipping it on. "Jarvis, call Fury now."

"I don't think so," Hermione sighed, reaching up and snatching the earpiece from his ear and hiding it in her pocket.

"Give it back," Tony scowled, holding his hand out expectantly.

"No. It was my choice to go. I had several opportunities to back out of the mission and I chose not to because there were people that needed my help. I was their last option, the divide between life and death. Once I'd extracted Clint and the other agent, my search turned to the final twelve agents involved. After five days, I was able to extract eight agents alive, and four dead."

He looked horrified. Positively horrified.

"I couldn't leave them there, Tony," she whispered, her gaze lowering to the ground. "They had families; wives, children, people that loved them. If I couldn't get them home alive, the least I could do was return them to their loved ones where they could be properly put to rest. I owed it to them. One of the agents, I hadn't gotten there fast enough and he died in my arms. The last thing he heard was my promise that he'd see his family again. He made me a liar."

She didn't protest when he stepped closer and folded his arms around her, pulling her into his chest as he pressed his chin atop her head. Her eyes closed, a single tear breaking free as it fell from the corner of her eye.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I was his only chance of survival and I failed him," she whispered.

"But you saved ten others. Ten people who were all but dead, who'd likely already accepted their fate and then you show up, a beacon to guide them home, to safety," he argued. "Trust me, Poppins, I know what that feels like," he added in a mutter, something she wasn't certain was actually meant for her or if he'd just been thinking aloud. "I know you, I know you did everything you could to save him, and the last thing he saw wasn't the face of his torturer, it was you. The last thing he experienced wasn't fear or pain, it was hope and kindness. I'm Hella pissed Fury sent you in without backup, that he sent you in at all, but I know you would've done everything humanly possible to get those agents back home, even if it meant risking your own life, which you did."

She sniffled and released a tired sigh, her cheek turning to press against his chest, her blurry eyes locking onto the reds, oranges and pinks that were cast across the sky as nightfall began to bathe London City, the illuminations from Big Ben, the streets and houses offering light in the darkness.

"Tell me something, Roomy?"

"What?" She whispered, unwilling to draw back from him yet and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to release her either.

"Tell me about one of your abilities. You want to ease me into this? Tell me something small."

She took a small moment to ponder whether it was the right thing to do but decided there was no harm in revealing something if she planned on telling him everything in the future.

"The ring I gave you, it prevents others from looking too closely and identifying you, hence why you haven't once been spotted. If one were to look hard enough, or even suspect that it might be you, then the protection it offers would weaken. It's somewhat based on intent, it tricks the brain into believing one thing over another. They might look directly at you but see another person, or, they might not see you at all. They might believe you a figment of their imagination."

"And how does that work? How's that possible without medicinal, alcohol or drug influence?"

"I can't tell you, not yet."

"Soon?"

"Soon," she promised.

~000~000~000~

"I'd kill for a sausage roll," Hermione remarked as they drifted further from the London Eye and the long queue of tourists still waiting for their turn.

"What the Hell's a sausage roll?" Tony's brow furrowed in confusion.

"You've never had a sausage roll? That's criminal. That's unforgivable. That needs rectifying, right now. There's a bakery nearby, they close in fifteen minutes so we best hurry and hope they have something left," she responded, quickening her steps and forcing Tony to do so as well in order to keep up with her.

As they stepped into Greggs, they were in luck and they were able to purchase the remaining five sausage rolls, two steak bakes, three cookies and four yum-yums, exiting the bakery with their goods just before the door was locked for the night.

"You wanna slow down?" Tony lifted both eyebrows in surprised amusement, seeing the way she all but tore the paper bag open in order to reach a sausage roll.

"Shut up," she grumbled. "I haven't had a sausage roll since I moved to the US, leave me be. This is one of the foods I've missed the most. Fish and chips, Sunday dinners, Yorkshire puddings... I can make them myself, but sausage rolls, as far I'm aware, I haven't seen available for purchase and I don't have the talent to make them myself, I've tried before and it was a complete disaster," she defended, taking a hearty bite of the sausage roll and wincing against the hot temperature.

"What is it?" He eyed it curiously, looking as though he wasn't certain if he wished to try it or not.

"Sausage in a buttery, flaky pastry and it will change your life. Try it," she encouraged, taking another bite of her own whilst fishing into the plastic bag and retrieving him one to try.

He took it hesitantly, sniffed at it curiously before slowly taking a bite, also wincing at the hot temperature, but once he'd chewed thoughtfully, he nodded to himself.

"I don't know what I was expecting but it's damn good," he remarked.

"I told you," she grinned smugly. "Fish and chips, sausage rolls, tea... Careful, Tony, you might be converting."

He snorted. "I wouldn't go that far."

"No?" She arched an eyebrow. "You ever tried a Jaffa cake?"

"Never heard of it."

She smiled slowly. "Dark chocolate and orange jelly on a cake-like base."

"Sounds disgusting."

"You like all of those things," she said knowingly. "You wanted to experience things through my perspective, and today, that's exactly what we've done. But it is getting late and we best check on Sally."

"I left the door to the rooftop open," Tony told her, "But part of me hopes she did her business inside."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She wouldn't do that, Sally's well trained."

Before they headed back to the car and returned to the hotel for the evening, they made a short pit-stop to a corner off-license shop, purchasing a number of typically British snacks and confectionary Tony had never heard of before, including Jaffa cakes.

When they returned to the hotel without attracting the attention of the press, they handed the car keys to a member of staff and headed for the foyer, their arms laden with bags containing food, drink, snacks and books Tony had purchased during their time wandering Hermione's favourite book shops.

"The ring, give it to me."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," she held her hand out expectantly.

"Can't I keep it?" He pouted.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I know you. The moment you're able to you'll have it in your lab, dissecting it and running every test known to mankind in an attempt to discover how it works," she said knowingly. He didn't look impressed, knowing that she knew him so well. "And not only that, it won't last, the protection's due to run out in ten minutes."

"Fine," he grumbled, taking the ring from his finger and setting it in her palm. She slipped it into her pocket and they continued their way towards the foyer.

As they approached the private lift connected to the Royal Penthouse suite, they were intercepted by the night manager.

"Mr. Stark, Miss. Granger," she greeted.

"Doctor Granger," Tony corrected instantly.

"My apologies," she tipped her head in Hermione's direction, folding her hands together to keep from fidgeting. "I trust you enjoyed your day in the city."

"Poppins gave me the inside scoop, the best tour guide anyone could ask for," he replied.

"Excellent. As an apology for the little misunderstanding yesterday evening, I have arranged for a private dining experience in our prestigious Northall Restaurant, and evening drinks in our adjoining bar, free of charge."

Tony arched an eyebrow. "How generous," he remarked coolly, and as Hermione saw the raven-haired woman's shoulders release some tension, it didn't last with Tony's next words. "But it was more than a 'little misunderstanding,' was it not? Unfortunately, I cannot be bought and neither can Dr. Granger, and dinner this evening has already been taken care of." Tony raised one of his hands to show the number of plastic bags in his hold as evidence. "What I would like to know is what course of action has been taken."

"Lindsey, the young woman that was managing the checking-in station," she clarified, "Has been suspended until further notice whilst an investigation is underway regarding her conduct."

"Good," was all Tony said before he stepped around the woman and continued towards the lift.

"Mr. Stark?" She questioned and Tony paused, twisting to look over his shoulder. "I have received reports from the cleaning staff assigned to the Royal Penthouse, claiming to have seen a white feline napping before the fireplace in the lounge, in both bedrooms and walking along the kitchen countertops."

"And?" He responded simply, giving the woman a look of challenge.

"I just wished to know if said feline poses a threat to the other guests," she said, her gaze lowering to the ground for a moment.

Hermione blinked in surprise and Tony's mouth twitched knowingly. "Not unless they insult her. She's remarkably clever, takes after her owner," was all he said, stepping into the lift without further delay.

"That didn't go as I expected it to," Hermione admitted.

Tony snorted. "As I said, they're trying to get on my good side, and if that means overlooking the no-pet policy I blatantly disregarded, then so be it."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Did you say something to Sally?" She questioned suspiciously. "You know she avoids people, she'd never willingly come out into the open if there were cleaners traipsing through the suite all morning. Not unless someone told her to."

Tony's mouth pulled into a smirk. "I might've had a word with her," he confessed. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "It serves them right," he shrugged, stepping out of the lift and heading for the lounge. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask. What's the deal with Sally?"

"What d'you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." He set the bags on the table and removed his jacket, hooking it over the back of one of the chairs. "You must think me an idiot if you think I haven't noticed she's a strange one."

"Okay?" She drew the word out slowly.

"Come off it, Doc," he scoffed. "I know there's something not quite right about her... Speak of the devil," he muttered when Sally appeared with a meow of greeting, jumping up onto the table and butting her head against Hermione's stomach and then moving towards Tony. He reached and lifted her up, holding her before his face. "What are you?" He asked her, their gazes locked, blue to brown. "I don't believe for a second you're a normal cat."

Sally meowed in response, Tony being unsure if that was confirmation or indignation and she wished him to set her back on her feet, so he did so, being unsurprised when she went rooting through the bags, sniggering when she tried to run off with one of Hermione's sausage rolls before she put a stop to it.

"What makes you think she's not normal?" Hermione deflected, holding the bag containing the baked goods out of Sally's reach.

"You really want me to answer that? Very well... How the fuck does she use the elevator in Stark Tower with the numerous security measures in place? How the fuck does she get into locked rooms? How the fuck does she understand everything we say to her? And how the fuck does she follow instructions better than the majority of the human population? I swear, I've seen her wink before, too! That's not normal. And birds! She doesn't give a shit about birds! What cat doesn't give a shit about birds?!"

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing as during his speech, he'd slowly grown more agitated to the point he was gesturing wildly with his hands and he'd almost smacked himself in the face, sending a glare to his hand as if it was its fault and not his own.

"I don't know what to tell you, Tony, she's intelligent."

"There's more to it than that," he disagreed. "I know there is. What? Have you experimented on her? Has she been genetically altered, is that it?"

"No, and I would never harm another living being in such a way," she scowled, somewhat offended by his words even though a part of her knew that Tony had no idea about her house-elf crusade back in her youth.

He held his hands up in surrender. "I know there's something different about her, so why won't you admit it? Does it have something to do with your abilities? Your community?"

She pursed her lips and folded her arms, refusing to answer.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said smugly.

"Take it how you wish, I'm going to get changed," she told him, leaving him at the table and taking the baked goods with her to prevent Sally from stealing them or Tony from giving in and willingly giving them to her.

~000~000~000~

"Hurry up, Poppins!" Tony called from the lounge, the coffee table stocked with all of the snacks and confectionery they'd bought, ready to be taste-tested, along with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

The lights had been dimmed, the fireplace lit, the TV was paused and Sally was curled up by the heat of the flames. Tony had already changed into pyjama pants and a shirt, set up their planned evening and was waiting for Hermione who was taking far too long in his opinion.

"Okay, I'm ready... Just... Just don't laugh at me," Hermione called back, sounding hesitant.

Feeling both of his eyebrows lift at her words, he turned his eyes towards the doorway, physically choking on his breath, his eyes widening and his mouth parting when Hermione slowly stepped into view, her hands clasped together, her eyes lowered and her teeth nibbling at her lower lip.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, his eyes slowly cataloguing her from head to toe. Her clothing left little the imagination and he certainly hadn't been expecting it.

She wore a black silk negligee with lace trimming, thin straps hooked over her shoulders and the hemline falling just barely above mid-thigh, showing her pale skin. She wore a silk robe over the top, the sleeves falling down to her wrists and the hem a little below the negligee. Her feet were bare, her wild curls flowing down her back and spilling over her shoulders and her cheeks tinted pink with her discomfort.

"Tony?"

"I'm definitely not laughing," he spoke in little above a mutter.

"You're staring."

"I'm not," he denied.

"You definitely are," she argued, folding her arms over her chest. It did nothing to deter his stare, if anything, it made it worse when the movement brought notice to her breasts. "Tony!" She snapped.

"What?" He blinked innocently.

"You're staring," she glared at him.

"It's not my fault!" He protested. "When you walk out looking like that, you can't expect me not to look."

"You weren't looking, you were staring," she corrected. "And it's not my fault, either. I didn't dress this way for your benefit. I wasn't joking this morning when I said the personal shopper bought me nothing but lingerie, both for underwear and pyjamas."

"I'm not complaining," he grumbled, his eyes doing another sweep, catching sight of a scar peeking out from the valley of her breasts. He hadn't noticed the first time. Neither had he noticed what looked to be a burn scar in-between her right clavicle and shoulder. From the little he could see, he'd estimate them to be over a decade in age. But how had she gotten them?

"There's another twelve of these things in the bloody bags," she grumbled.

"Fashion show?" He cheeked.

"No," she said flatly. "And if you don't stop staring, I'm going to barricade myself in my room and you can have movie night by yourself," she warned.

Giving his head both a mental and physical shake, he tore his eyes from her body and her face, seeing the heat blooming in her cheeks and her clearly unimpressed expression.

"I'm not apologising."

"I wasn't expecting you to," she shrugged a single shoulder, hesitantly crossing over to the couch and taking a seat beside him, getting herself comfortable by pulling her legs beneath her and setting a cushion on her lap. "What've you chosen?"

"Paranormal Activity 4," he responded.

The movie wasn't due to be released in the UK for several weeks but she knew from experience that Tony could get his hands on anything, and it wasn't the first time they'd seen a movie that hadn't yet been released from the comfort of their home. Tony was one of the best, if not the best, hacker in the world, and that was without Jarvis' help. He simply hacked the production company or cinema showing the movie, did some impressive tech-thingy that bounced the signal off a satellite and straight to the Tower. Presumably what he'd done that night.

"That's a horror, isn't it? You know I hate horror movies," she all but pouted.

His mouth twitched. "I know. This is rated 15, ya big baby."

He wouldn't admit it out loud but it found it both hilarious and adorable when she'd squeak, jump, startle, gasp and hide behind a cushion or blanket.

"I haven't even seen the first three," she pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "Grab ya wine and settle in."

"If I have nightmares, I'm going to make your life Hell," she warned, reaching for her wine glass, settling back into the couch and lifting the cushion in preparation to hide behind it.

~000~000~000~

"I hate this!" Hermione squeaked, a cushion partially covering her face as she peered over the top. "We're barely halfway through and I've lost count of how many jump scares there's been! Not only did I nearly spill my wine twice, but I almost peed myself."

"Very attractive, Poppins," Tony teased. "Just what a guy wants to hear. You sure know how to sweet talk a genius."

"Shut up," she whisper-hissed, distractedly slapping his arm. "And I swear, if you eat any more Jaffa cakes and don't leave me any, I'm going to turn Jarvis against you."

"That's impossible."

"It's not; we both know he likes me more than you."

"It's not my fault they're so good!" He protested. "Remind me to buy a crate of them to take back to New York with us. Those Monster Munch things, too."

"For God's Sake!" Hermione cursed when another jump scared occurred, visibly startling. Tony sniggered at her. He hadn't even flinched. When he reached for the half-empty packet of Jaffa cakes and pulled one free, she swiped it from his hand midway to his mouth.

"Hey!"

"You've eaten the majority of them, I haven't had one yet," she argued. "You've got to share. To think, you wouldn't even know they existed if I hadn't told you and forced you to try one."

He sulked and produced another from the packet, eating it more aggressively than was appropriate.

Sometime later, Hermione had to use the bathroom and when she returned, Tony was scanning the contents of the coffee table in search of his next treat with the TV paused.

"You didn't have to pause it," she told him. "I would've preferred if you hadn't."

"Chicken," he jibed. She stuck her tongue out childishly and retook her seat.

"Any plans for tomorrow?" She asked conversationally, reaching for her refilled wine glass and sipping the dark red liquid. "It's our last full day before we head back to New York."

"I know exactly what I'm going to do," he replied, his mouth twitching in a way as though he knew something she didn't. "You?"

"Haven't decided yet," she shrugged. "I know I have to see Harry, or at the very least, I can't leave without saying goodbye to my Godchildren. I'll see about contacting Ginny and having her bring them and my things to a meeting place. Or possibly George, he's probably the best option. In fact, I might just have him mail them to me. It's not as if there's anything in particular that I need. And there's something I want to do on Monday before we leave."

"And that is?"

"None of your business."

"Charming," he scoffed.

"I've been living with you too long; I'm picking up your bad habits."

~000~000~000~

"Jarvis?"

"The results have not changed, Mr. Stark," the A.I replied.

"But that's impossible. They can't not exist!" Tony exclaimed quietly as he sat at the table with his tablet propped up. His eyes strayed towards the couch where Hermione lay on her side, a cushion beneath her head and a blanket covering her (which he'd placed over her out of worry of her being cold) as she slept.

They'd made it through the movie before Hermione chose a comedy to balance out her chance of having nightmares. The third movie they'd settled on one from the action genre and she'd fallen asleep halfway through, being snuggled into his side. It was that moment when Tony thought it time to check in with Jarvis as he hadn't done so all day, and after reluctantly shifting out from under Hermione and making sure she was comfortable, he'd crossed to the table and retrieved his earpiece from Hermione's coat pocket.

"I have conducted the search a total of eight times."

"I don't believe it," he said to himself, his eyes locked on the screen before him. A completely blank screen. Ronald Weasley didn't exist. "Alright," he sighed, "Bring up the results for Potter."

His eyes slowly took in the information before him.

"Harry James Potter. Born July 31st, 1980. Parents unknown. Guardians, Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursley née Evans of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Attended St. Grogory's Primary School aged 3-10. Registered to attend Stonewell Secondary Comprehensive School at age 11, expected start date September 2nd, 1991... But never showed up. He disappeared off the face of the planet... Jarvis? Are there any missing person's reports for Potter?"

"No, Sir."

"The woman, Petunia Dursley. Her maiden name's Evans. Does she have any relatives?"

"Yes, Sir. Records show her father, Jack, died of a heart attack in 1978, and her mother Violet, passed in her sleep after a battle with lung cancer in 1980. There is also a younger sister, Lily Evans."

"Potter's mother, I wonder?" He mused to himself. "What've we got on her?"

Tony's eyes searched the screen once more when a second file appeared.

"Lily Jasmine Evans, born January 30th, 1960 in Cokeworth, Midlands, England. Attended St. Margaret's Primary School aged 5-10. Was registered to attend St. Mary's Secondary Education, was expected to start September 5th, but never showed... How about that?" He mused, leaning back into his chair and folding his arms over his chest, his mind working to slot the pieces together.

"They both disappeared at the same time, at the same age. Poppins said her special boarding accepts children at eleven and they graduate at eighteen, which accounts for the missing schooling. Dursley wouldn't be given custody unless she was a blood relative and if she had a younger sister, it's only logical that she had a kid, Potter being the father's name. Now, Potter's got abilities like Poppins and they can only be born with them, and since his mother also disappeared, it's credible that she had them, too. Muggleborn," he said to himself knowingly, as Hermione had told him so just that day, "And Potter's a Half-blood, a mixture of both ancestries, which means his father also has abilities. Jarvis, search for males with the last name Potter, disappearing around the age of eleven in the UK," Tony ordered.

"Right away, Sir," the A.I agreed.

"Weasley's a Pureblood," Tony continued his musings, "But we found nothing on him. Private education, maybe? And what's Potter doing in the custody of his Aunt? Jarvis, search for any deaths for both Evans and Potter."

"Yes, Sir. I have conducted the search regarding the name Potter."

"And?"

"137 findings within the United Kingdom."

"Any disappearances?"

"No, Sir, not at the age of eleven."

"Damn," he muttered, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Sir, I have also found negative results for death certificates."

"Tricky, tricky. Well, I like a challenge." Sitting straight, he cracked his knuckles (something Hermione was always on his case about stopping the 'disgusting' habit) and began typing away at the screen, determined to find something, anything.

He didn't. He found nothing more than what he already had.

Slumping back into his chair in annoyance, his eyes darted over to Hermione.

"Jarvis? Search all records for men and women with the last name Granger, filter the search for those with training or licenses within dentistry."

"Yes, Sir... I have found 32 results."

"And narrow that down to Richmond, London," he instructed.

"2, Sir. A Richard David Granger and a Jean Helen Granger née Taylor."

"Background?"

"On your screen, Sir."

"Richard Granger, born February 18th, 1945. Served in British Armed Forced, aged 16-21, retired due to injury. Licensed dentist by 27. Jean Granger, born April 7th 1955, a dental nurse by 20, later retrained for dental license at age 32. Met and married Richard in August 1975. Gave birth to a daughter, Hermione E.J. Granger, September 19th 1979. Granger's Dental Surgery opened January 1976. Deaths occurred July 23rd, 1997." Tony's eyes darted over to Hermione once more, finding her still peacefully sleeping. "Jarvis? Find out what you can about their deaths. Hack any database necessary, I don't care."

"Yes, Sir."

Tony set his elbows on the table and propped his chin atop his clasped hands, his eyes darting between his tablet and Hermione.

"Done, Sir."

Tony focused his attention forward, his brow furrowing as he read the crime report, only, most of it was blacked out. Only words such as "home invasion," "suffering," and "dead on arrival" remained.

"Jarvis?"

"That is it all, Mr. Stark," the A.I replied knowingly. "The record was sealed. I have found nothing else with a possible connection to the file."

"No case number, responding officers, suspects, time or cause of death... This is looking like a cover-up job," he frowned, his eyes once more darting over to Hermione. "She said it was her fault because she was born, she's mentioned how secretive they are of their community, and if they were killed by someone like her, it's logical her community covered it up to prevent potential fallout or exposure," he said aloud. "And if they attend school in their own community, then perhaps they never leave once they graduate. That's why there's no record for Weasley or Potter's father. They're both Purebloods. They were born in their community. I'm a genius!" He said smugly but his joy was short-lived. "And I'm still no closer to finding the bastards," he groaned, his head dropping into his hands.

As he thought back on his day with Hermione, trying to remember any small details he may have missed during their conversations, he was reminded of the incident at the London Eye.

Lifting his head, he stole a glance at Hermione before reaching over to the coat hung over the back of the chair, his hand digging into the pocket, a little surprised when he felt the cool metal of a larger than usual coin. Drawing back, he squinted his eyes and brought it closer to eye level, scanning the gold coin. Upon closer inspection, it reminded him of a challenge coin issued in the US. He'd seen one similar as Rhodey had one from his time serving.

The side he was currently looking at oddly had an 'M' embossed in the centre, a strange-looking stick sitting slap-bang in the centre, strange lines coming off it as though it were glowing like sunshine in a child's drawing. Flipping it over, he recognised both the embossed British flag and the Queen's head. Around the edge of the coin was 'VC,1997', 'Hermione E.J. Granger'.

Weird, he thought.

"Jarvis, I'mma snap a photo of this coin, I want you to find out what you can," Tony instructed, reaching for his phone and snapping a photo of both sides.

"Sir, I have found no matches."

"Thought so," he sighed, unsurprised. "Search the initials 'VC'."

"Several results. Venture Capital. BCVA. Victoria Cross. CV."

"Hold on," Tony interrupted, "What was that last one?"

"Victoria Cross, Sir."

"And what is that?"

"Taken from the official UK Government website, 'The Victoria Cross is the premier Operational Gallantry award given for 'most conspicuous bravery, or some daring or pre-eminent act of valour or self-sacrifice, or extreme devotion to duty in the presence of the enemy.'"

Tony blinked slowly, his eyes darting to Hermione's sleeping form.

"A military medal?" He clarified.

"Yes, Sir."

His eyes moved to the coin in his hand and back to Hermione.

"Jarvis, search Hermione's name through the Royal database."

"That is considered an act of terrorism, Sir."

"Just do it," he snapped irritably.

Silence fell with Tony unable to take his eyes away from Hermione.

"Sir, during my search, I found mention of both Hermione Granger and Harry Potter," said Jarvis. Tony sat tall in his chair. "The Victoria Cross was awarded to both on July 1st,1998."

"Does it specifically state the reasoning?"

"No, Sir, it does not."

"But why would she have been awarded a military order with no military experience?"

He could feel a headache approaching.

When Hermione shifted in her sleep, it drew his attention, him immediately noting that her peaceful expression had been replaced by a frown. She shifted once more, slowly growing more restless.

Slipping the coin back into the pocket of her coat, he stood from the table and quietly walked towards her, crouching down by the couch, his hearing picking up on muttered words.

"No, don't... It hurts, stop. Please, stop."

His brow furrowed. Was this a nightmare due to the movie, or... Something else? His eyes darted to his tablet briefly. Had she seen combat before? Was this the trauma she'd spoken of?

"It's not real, it's a fake," she groaned in her sleep, her mutterings growing louder. "We didn't steal it. We didn't! No... Stop, please... I can't..."

Lifting his hand, he brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers skimming her crinkled forehead and then her cheek. She settled for a moment and shifted closer to his touch.

"Please, stop. It hurts!" She cried, a tear leaking from beneath her closed eyelid and swimming down her cheek.

He wiped it away with his calloused thumb, his eyes locked on her pained, frightened expression, it lessening with skin contact.

"I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you," he muttered in a promise.

Hearing a sleepy meow, he peered over his shoulder to see Sally waking from her sleep and stretching out her body before she approached, leaping onto the couch, butting her head against his chin in greeting and then moving to snuggle against Hermione. She calmed almost instantly when Sally licked her cheek.

"Either of you," he reiterated, his eyes darting between Hermione and Sally.

The white fluff-ball gave a meow in response, as if knowing he was telling the truth.

And he was. He wasn't going to let anyone near her. She was his best friend. One of his most trusted companions, perhaps more so than Happy, Rhodey and Jarvis. She was... Well... His.

And Hell would freeze over before he ever let anyone harm her. Potter and Weasley included.

She was his to protect. Something he'd only just realised.