CHAPTER ELEVEN


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 don't know if I'm an idiot or just unobservant, but I've recently discovered that polls can actually be done on here that require very little effort on my part and that keep track of the results for me, meaning I don't have to sit for ages counting the votes. The time that could've saved me had I known...

Anyway, I've just set up a poll...

Which story would you like to see updated for/by Christmas?

Three votes to each account have been allocated, (you must be logged in/registered to vote) I'll leave the vote open for one week before closing it and the top 3 voted stories... I'll be sure to post an update for by or around Christmas. Please don't cast your votes through reviews as they won't be counted. Use the poll. Just go to my account/bio page to vote.

Q&A

Taticia1 – Yes, it's coming soon.

Snewby – It's a little of both. I am going to stick to the MCU canon as much as possible, unless I decide otherwise, but I've shifted it back a year to 2013, due to an error in the calculation of dates and times that I didn't notice until after I started writing. The only way to fix it was to simply push it back one year. So this is 2012, currently in this chapter, September.

Geethika – I don't want to make it too long as I don't want it to drag out and I want to complete it as soon as possible. And the other Avengers will slowly start popping up.

Gairu-chan – I don't like to rush character and relationship development, I usually write slow burns (unless it's a one-shot, of course) but I think we're drawing to a close on this one, and they'll be together soon enough.


Page count: 30


Stepping into the lounge early the next morning, Hermione hadn't expected to find herself alone.

The dining table was empty, there was no sign of Tony and the kitchen counter had been taken over by breakfast items. Her brow furrowing and her lips pursed, she crossed over to the kitchen, fixed herself a cup of tea and selected some toast and fruit before crossing to the table and taking a seat, silently making a start on breakfast.

It was odd to her, being alone at breakfast with no one to talk to. Even before she'd moved in with Tony, they more often than not ate breakfast together. She'd grown to enjoy the company.

She eyed the empty chair opposite her thoughtfully, wondering if Tony had eaten before he'd taken his leave. Given the temperature of her tea, she knew it hadn't been that long since room service had arrived; perhaps she'd just missed him.

As she finished her breakfast and decided a second cup of tea was in order, Sally made an appearance and after greeting her and summoning the cat food that had been purchased the day before to tie them over for the rest of the trip, she fed her familiar and journeyed through the suite to the rooftop.

It was her first time seeing it and it was truly beautiful, if not quite cold and she was only glad she'd slipped on the flurry robe she'd found in her bathroom, the silk one she'd been wearing the previous evening would've offered little protection.

Taking a seat at the table, her eyes took in the peacefulness of London City in the early morning, most slowly waking for the day and preparing for their responsibilities. It was still dark outside, the sky above grey and miserable, the wind biting and harsh, the air chilling against her exposed skin.

After finishing her tea and no longer being able to withstand the cold temperature with only a bathrobe and negligee for protection, she returned inside to the warmth, passing Sally in the process as she headed outside.

Stepping into the kitchen, she tipped her head at the sight of the food being gone. Someone must've been by to clean up, and she'd been on the rooftop longer than she realised.

Having nothing better to do with her day and not liking the look of the dreary sky, she decided to do a little exploring of the Penthouse suite, having yet to see all it had to offer due to its sheer size. The suite consisted of two floors, three if the rooftop was included, and even if they had less than two days remaining of their visit to London, Hermione was tired of getting lost.

As she set to slowly wandering the suite, she discovered a number of rooms she hadn't known where included; a security office, a TV lounge, a terrace connected to the master bedroom and the most surprising of all, a butler's quarters fitted with bathroom and kitchen. It seemed the room came equipped with a personal butler but Tony had declined the service. And she wondered if Happy used the security office and slept elsewhere, or if he had his own security surveillance setup, that with Tony's resources, was most likely more advanced and required less manual interference.

As she made to continue her exploration, believing to have missed one or two rooms, she heard the phone ringing, echoing through the suite. Cursing, she rushed down the stairs and to the phone that sat on a small table by the lift, barely catching it before it rang off.

The red flashing light on the screen let her know it was the front desk calling.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Dr. Granger," greeted what sounded like a young man, his tone professional and calm.

"Yes, this is she," she confirmed.

"Sarah and Nicola have arrived, might I send them up to the Penthouse?"

Her brow furrowing in confusion, Hermione said, "Yes, of course."

"Excellent, they will be with you momentarily."

"Thank you," she responded before ending the call.

Folding her arms, she did her best to wonder who the two women were and why they might need access to the Penthouse but the only explanation she could provide was that they were possibly the cleaners and knowing the Penthouse wasn't empty, wished to have permission before entering. But then, whoever had cleaned the kitchen hadn't asked for permission. Unless they'd called ahead and she hadn't heard due to being on the rooftop and they'd assumed the suite was empty.

Giving her head a shake, she considered making a quick trip to her room to throw on some clothes so she might be more presentable, but as the thought crossed her mind, the lift dinged open and two women stepped out.

They were both young, mid-twenties, she'd assume and they sported black tunics with gold lining and buttons and the hotel logo, black trousers that fitted closely around the ankles and black flats. One was a platinum-blonde with a tanned complexion, bright blue eyes, pink plump lips and a smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. The other was more of an ash-blonde, her nose small, her mouth a dark pink with the bottom lip a little fuller than the top and her dark green eyes framed by mascara-coated lashes.

Whoever they were, Hermione didn't believe they were cleaners. Wrong uniform.

"Good morning, Dr. Granger," they chorused, their hands clasped before them.

"Good morning," she returned, her eyes noting the platinum-blonde's name tag read 'Nicola' and the ash-blonde's 'Sarah'.

"Are you ready to begin?" Asked Nicola, the taller of the two women.

"I'm sorry," Hermione began, pulling her robe a little tighter around herself. "Begin? I must confess, I'm not entirely sure what your purpose is, or why you are here?"

"Mr. Stark has arranged for you to experience our renowned spa treatments," answered the other blonde. Hermione blinked in surprise at the news, obviously having no idea that he'd done so. That's probably why he'd snuck out when she was asleep, she realised. "Our services are included in the Penthouse package, and Mr. Stark wished to surprise you with a day of relaxation and tranquillity."

"It's definitely a surprise," Hermione confirmed. "I had no idea."

"Mr. Stark left this for you at the front desk."

The young woman slipped her hand into a well-concealed pocket on her tunic before drawing back with a slip of paper, holding it out to her. Taking it, Hermione flipped it open, recognising Tony's mismatched choice of capital and lowercase lettering.

Poppins,

I know you don't understand the meaning of the word 'relaxation' so I brought in professionals to help.

You've had a shitty week, (but I've been a fabulous host) you work hard and you deserve a break. Enjoy yourself, do nothing, bask in the attention and relax.

I'll see you this evening.

"That man's incorrigible," she sighed. "Well, it seems my plans for the day have been made for me," she said to herself, returning her gaze to the two women. "Did you say day? As in all day?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger," nodded the green-eyed woman. "We offer a wide range of services and treatments and Mr. Stark has insisted that you experience them all."

"Of course he did," she rolled her eyes fondly, completely unsurprised. "Well, I confess I have never before visited or experienced spa treatments. I've always been too busy with my demanding work-life, I barely have time to think let alone relax."

"Not to worry. Dr. Granger. Today, it is our responsibility to take care of you and our goal is to ensure you achieve complete relaxation and tranquillity."

"Might we begin?" Asked the second woman.

"I'm not really presentable to be traipsing through the hotel, might I have a moment to change?"

"There is no need, Dr. Granger, the Penthouse package is not only equipped with access to the spa treatments, but there is a personal spa room in the suite, so we might come to you and you can relax in the privacy of your own suite."

Hermione blinked in surprise at that. Yes, she'd definitely missed a room or two when she'd been exploring. It wasn't her fault the Penthouse was so bloody big!

"If you would please follow us, we will show you to the room and we can begin."

~000~000~000~

She'd fallen asleep. She was so relaxed and her mind untroubled that she'd drifted to sleep without being exhausted, without being tipsy and without a fight.

It had taken her almost an hour to feel comfortable enough to let down her guard and relax once they'd reached the private spa room, and the two young women had been remarkably patient without her, seeming unphased or unsurprised by her unwillingness to switch off her mind and do nothing.

But once she did, she'd never felt better.

She'd undergone more treatments than she thought possible, most of them she'd never heard of, and whilst Nicola set to providing her first-ever deep tissue massage, Sarah had proceeded to give her a manicure. As years of knots, tension and aches were finally banished under the skilful hands of the young blonde, admittedly, Hermione had struggled to contain one or two appreciative but embarrassing moans, something neither of the women seemed to notice. Thankfully.

When lunch arrived, Hermione eyed the offerings of finger sandwiches, cheese, fruit and champagne curiously. She hadn't ordered it so it was either included within the spa package or Tony had pre-ordered for her, in which case, why had he ordered foods that were light on the stomach and guaranteed that hunger wouldn't be kept at bay for long?

She'd had only one glass of champagne and declined any more, not one to drink so early in the day and she'd only done so for a little liquid courage to agree to the leg waxing, not that there was much to remove. She never waxed. More often than not she'd shave unless she was in one of those moods where couldn't be bothered and resorted to a charm. It was the easier option but being Muggleborn, she often liked to do things she might once have without the aid of magic.

It hadn't hurt as much as she thought but she quickly decided she never wished to experience it again. Once was enough.

As the afternoon drew on, she'd been pampered and massaged and moisturised, and it was during one of the facial treatments in which she'd fallen asleep for the second time.

The two women for the most part worked calmly and efficiently whilst engaging her in conversation. They'd tried several times to subtly get information out of Hermione about Tony and her relationship with him and despite her relaxed, sleepy state, she'd still been sharp enough to avoid those questions and hints and they soon gave up asking or trying.

As the spa treatment concluded with a pedicure, the two women cleaned away their equipment and what not and Hermione escorted them to the lift, thanking them for their services and providing a well-deserved tip. She hated having to borrow money from Tony until she was able to retrieve her belongings from Grimmauld, and she hadn't had the chance to visit Gringotts London yet to withdraw funds. Tony, being the good friend he was, had offered to loan her some for the time being and Hermione had every intention of paying him back with interest whether he liked it or not.

Perhaps she'd get dressed and visit that afternoon before he returned.

Seeing off the two women, Hermione filled a plate with cat food for Sally and left it on the floor for her to eat whenever she wished. As she made to leave for her room, she paused when the phone rang.

"Dr. Granger," greeted a different voice from the one that morning. This one was female.

"Yes?" She responded.

"Penelope and Emily are ready. Might I send them up?"

Her brow furrowing, Hermione agreed before ending the call, wondering if these two women were to be the cleaners. She hadn't yet been changed, still clothed in her robe and negligee despite the late afternoon that was drawing closer to early evening.

The two women stepped out of the lift moments later, one petite and the other slightly larger, both with height and curves. The smaller of the two was a redhead, her hair tied back from her face with a low ponytail, a fringe almost falling into her hazel-coloured eyes. The larger woman was a brunette, her hair done up in a tidy bun. Her eyes were bright, a combination of blue and green, her nose slightly pointed and a cleft in her chin. The brunette appeared to be wearing makeup, whilst the redhead had opted for only a dash of mascara to lengthen and darken her lashes.

They both wore uniforms identical to the two women that had just taken their leave. The redhead's name tag read 'Penelope' and the brunette's 'Emily.' These weren't cleaners either. They both carried large silver cases with them, fitted with wheels and a pull-handle.

"Dr. Granger," they both greeted brightly.

"Hello," she responded. "I hope you don't mind my asking and please forgive me if this seems rude, but, who are you?"

They smiled at her.

"I am Penelope," introduced the redhead. "A beautician, more specifically, a makeup artist."

"And I am Emily, also a beautician, but most specifically hair care," added the brunette.

Hermione blinked slowly in surprise.

"And is this included in the package?" She asked, feeling her suspicions growing.

"No, Dr. Granger," confirmed the brunette. "Mr. Stark has asked that we assist you in preparing for this evening."

"This evening?" She echoed, her eyebrow arching.

Tony was up to something.

The spa treatment? Fine, it was a nice gesture that was a benefit of staying in the Penthouse. Lunch? Why was it so small and unfilling, designed to tie one over for a short while but avoid a full, heavy stomach? And now a makeup artist and hairdresser that wasn't included?

"That is all we know," replied the redhead.

"Might we begin? We do not have much time," said the brunette.

"Of course," Hermione nodded slowly. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Wherever you may feel most comfortable."

Nodding once more, Hermione led the way to her room, the two women following behind her and exchanging a glance once they stepped into the room, noticing a sleeping Sally curled up on her bed.

At their entrance, she woke, releasing a yowling yawn before rising to her feet and stretching out her body. She moved to greet Hermione and after a scratch behind the ears, she glanced to the two women before taking her leave, darting out of the room and away from the unknown and untrusted visitors.

Hermione took a seat at the vanity table and the two women quickly set to work, opening their cases and withdrawing the items they needed, the makeup artist standing before her and the hairdresser behind her, preventing interference.

She had no need to shower, having already done so early in the day after undergoing a treatment in which the two blondes had painted mud onto the entirety of her body, and it later needed to be washed off. Thankfully, as she didn't wish to wash off the nice smelling moisturiser that had been applied, and she'd already undergone a leg and underarm wax, as well as a manicure and pedicure.

She should've seen this coming.

The two women worked efficiently, the makeup artist asking for her opinion and colour choices regarding eye makeup and the hairdresser regarding how she wished to have her hair. The former she'd decided on natural, neutral colours and the latter, she'd given full control, knowing from experience the poor woman had her work cut out for her and she'd had more chance of styling it than Hermione ever would.

Midway through, she'd heard the phone ringing and there was only three that she knew of in the Penthouse; one by the lift, one in the security office and the other in the master bedroom. That being the closest, she'd excused herself and quickly headed across the landing and to Tony's room.

"Dr. Granger, your package has arrived. Might I have it sent up?" Said the woman from before.

Hermione's lips pursed, already having a feeling that she knew what she'd find once she opened it.

"Please," she responded. "If you would have them bring it up to the second bedroom, I'd appreciate it."

"Right away, Dr. Granger," the woman agreed.

Ending the call, she returned to the two women, both continuing where they'd left off before she'd excused herself. Soon after, a knock sounded on the door and a young man, no older than twenty-five stepped inside, his grey eyes instinctively searching the room before they were drawn to her, and his blonde hair reflecting in the lights above.

"Dr. Granger," he greeted.

It seemed word had gotten around that Tony was quick to correct those that referred to her using the wrong title. Hermione didn't mind so much, in general. It was when people were rude that she made it a point to correct them.

"You may enter."

Stepping further into the room, Hermione noted the young man carrying four boxes stacked atop one another. There were two approximately the same size same, a large rectangular shape and both fitted with a red ribbon tied around the white box. The third was much smaller, looking mostly like a shoebox and the final box sat on top, square in shape and black velvet.

"Where would you like these?"

"On the bed, please."

"I have been asked to inform you that your car will be waiting by parking bay 8 at five-forty-five."

Car?

After thanking him and taking a moment to give a tip, the two women worked to put the finishing touches on her appearance, and despite the women being perfectly pleasant, she was happy when they took their leave.

Standing and crossing over to the bed, she hesitated before reaching for the two larger boxes, removing their lids and pulling each item free. The first was a black peacoat with large black buttons and it looked to fall to mid-shin. The second item was a black gown. A couture gown. She didn't recognise either of the brands, no doubt being too expensive and luxurious for her to ever be able to afford. Well, she could afford it, she just chose not to.

Putting the gown aside, the third box revealed a pair of sophisticated, pointed-toe black heels, the red soles being a huge indicator of the designer. And if that wasn't enough, the velvet box revealed a matching set of teardrop diamond earrings, a teardrop diamond necklace and a tennis bracelet.

Hermione sunk down onto the soft mattress, staring down at the velvet box held in her hands.

It must've been worth thousands. Tens of thousands, if the shoes, gown and coat were included, not to mention, the silver clutch purse that had also come with the gown.

What was he thinking?!

Hermione determined he obviously wasn't.

But why was he doing this? For all intents and purposes, he was spoiling her. A spa day, manicure and pedicure, hair and makeup, expensive shoes, diamond jewellery and a couture gown.

Part of her didn't want to accept it, she felt uncomfortable in doing so, but she also knew that Tony had a plan; that he'd gone to an awful lot of trouble to arrange her day and acquire the things he had.

Part of her wanted to know and the other wanted to run and hide.

She made to swipe her hand through her hair before pausing, not wishing to mess it up and undo anything the hairdresser had worked hard to do, and she released a sigh, putting the velvet box aside before burying her face in her hands, her shoulders slumping.

After taking a moment to gather the facts, she came to a decision. Despite the uncertainty, Hermione decided to appease Tony. He had something planned and she wished to know what that was.

Her decision made, she rose to her feet, shrugged out of her robe and readied for the evening, being sure to be quick as possible as time was short. Once done, she stood before the mirror in the walk-in wardrobe, her eyes wide and her jaw all but hitting the floor.

She barely recognised herself.

It was a wonder how a little makeup and a fancy gown could change a person.

Her gown, she hadn't been expecting, and when she'd first slipped it on, she'd felt a little uncomfortable but now, seeing everything together, she admitted that it was perfect.

The soft black material was unlike anything she'd felt before, and it clung to her body in all the right places. From the front, it looked modest with a high scoop neckline leading into long, tight sleeves that fell to her wrists. The gown conformed to her shape, continuing down her legs before flaring out into a mermaid-style, the hem brushing the ground. The back, however, there wasn't one; the material lacking from the back of her neck all the way to the dimples in the small of her back, and despite that, her modesty was still intact, even if she wasn't able to wear a bra and being grateful the designer had obviously had the thought to have one sewn into the dress.

Her hair had been tamed to waves after much effort, and whilst strands framed her face, the rest had been pinned back with a Dutch braid on either side of her head leading into a thick, full bun at the nape of her neck that was just messy enough to be considered fashionable. Her makeup had been done to her wishes, a blend of nude, brown and gold on her eyelids with a slight cat-eye being done in black eyeliner. Mascara had been applied to her lashes and a nude-clear lip gloss coated her lips. With her diamond jewellery contrasting against the black gown and her earrings on show due to her hair being pulled back, her clutch purse in hand and her shoes on her feet, Hermione deemed herself ready.

It wasn't often said or thought but that night, Hermione felt beautiful.

After catching a glimpse of the time and being sure to equip her shoes with a Balancing and Cushioning Charm to prevent any potential trips or slips, she placed her wand into the holster tied to her inner thigh and hidden beneath her dress, she reached for her coat and slipped it on before taking her leave from her room.

Noting the dark sky and the slight chill, Hermione turned on the fireplace so Sally might sleep before it comfortably, and after leaving out more food should she wish it, she crossed to the lift and descended to the foyer, journeying to the private car park without issue.

Heading for parking bay 8, she stopped before a car that had already reversed out of the bay and was now running, a kind-looking man with greying hair peeking out from beneath his chauffeur's cap, bright blue eyes and wrinkles stepping forward.

"Dr. Granger," he greeted with a slight bow. "I am Harold, your driver for this evening."

"Good evening," she greeted. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I am to assume you know where it is we are heading?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Might you tell me?"

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "I'm sorry, Dr. Granger, I have been instructed not to reveal the agenda for this evening. Mr. Stark wishes for it to be kept secret."

She pursed her lips but otherwise nodded.

"Is it far?"

"No more than a ten minute drive if traffic is not an issue."

Harold held his hand out and Hermione placed hers into his, allowing him to escort her to the back passenger's side and he held the door open and helped her in before closing the door behind her.

~000~000~000~

Stepping out into the cold evening air, Hermione was grateful for the warm, thick coat she wore. As Harold helped her out of the car and Hermione stepped away so the door might be closed, she stared up at the large, traditional-looking building with flags perched above the large modern entrance, the sign depicting the name of the hotel, and a bronze-gold statue of some important figure sat in the middle.

When Harold offered his hand, he escorted her towards the entrance and into the foyer, fitted with large pillars, hanging lights and a black and white checked floor. As her eyes did a quick search of her surroundings, Harold released her hand and stepped back, bowing to her before wishing her a good evening and taking his leave.

Hermione, having no idea what she was doing at the Savoy Hotel when she was residing elsewhere, and having no idea where she was supposed to go and what she was supposed to do next, was relieved when she spotted Tony.

He approached slowly, dressed in black shiny dress shoes, a black tuxedo with a white shirt and black bowtie. When she looked to his expression... He was dumbfounded. Speechless. The day Tony Stark was lost for words was the day pigs flew, the dinosaurs returned and Hell froze over.

He halted to a stop before her, his gaze slowly and silently cataloguing her appearance, taking it all in. She wasn't offended by his blatant staring; she knew she looked far different than either of them were used to and it was quite jarring.

"Tony?"

She received no response, his gaze seemingly far away, as if he were in a world of his own and no one else was around.

"Tony?" She called a little louder.

"What?" He blurted rudely, blinking slowly in confusion.

She arched an eyebrow. "You're staring."

"I am," he agreed without pause, nodding his head with his eyes once more doing a quick head to toe scan. "You look... Well, you look..." He paused, struggling to finish his compliment.

"You being speechless is all the compliment I need," she replied, his eyes moving back to hers once more. "And whilst I appreciate the gesture, I hope you know I can't keep this," she gestured to her gown and more specifically, the diamond jewellery.

"Sorry, lost the receipt, can't return it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Then I hope you know I intend to repay you the full amount of purchase."

He rolled his eyes. "No, you won't."

"Yes, I will," she argued.

"I'm a billionaire, I can afford it."

"I'm a millionaire, I can afford it," she fired back.

"It's a gift, you can't return it, that would be rude," he folded his arms smugly.

"Well, then I wish to give you a gift, too. A gift that just so happens to be an amount of money that equals the total cost of the items I'm wearing."

"I won't accept it."

"If I give it to you in cash, you can't return it, that would be rude," she echoed.

Tony's brow furrowed in amused annoyance before he sighed.

"Alright, we're goin' 'round in circles. Let's talk about this another time, we've dinner reservations to make."

He held his hand out and after pursing her lips, she set her hand in his own, allowing him to guide it to the crook of his elbow as he moved to stand beside her before leading the way through the hotel.

"I knew you were up to something," Hermione told him. "The moment the makeup artist and hairdresser arrived, I knew. And when I received a phone call to inform me of packages having been delivered, I already knew what I'd find before I opened them. What are you up to?"

"What? A guy can't take his best female British friend to dinner without having an ulterior motive?" He questioned innocently.

"Of course, however, this is not just any dinner, is it? Our attire leads me to believe you've something planned."

He merely smirked and let the subject drop, barely stepping into the Savoy Grill when they were immediately ushered to a secure and private dining space, the decor dark and the lighting dim to give that intimate feel.

When Tony helped her into one of the two chairs at the small round table, he moved to take the seat opposite her, barely looking to the waiter when he ordered a bottle of wine without looking at the wine menu.

"And how has your day been?" He asked, drawing Hermione's eyes away from the decor and back to him.

"Relaxing, for the most part."

"Good," he nodded. "It's about time you learned the meaning of the word."

"Please," she scoffed. "You're one to talk; you work just as much as I do, if not more," she pointed out. "And your day? I hadn't expected you to be gone so early this morning, I must've just missed you."

"For the most part, boring. But, it has recently picked up," he replied, looking to her pointedly.

When the waiter returned with their wine, he gave them their menus and after taking a few moments to look over the menu (Hermione learning that Gordon Ramsey himself would be preparing their meals) she was a little surprised by the prices, it being cheaper than she'd expected. As she was deciding on her order, she was interrupted by Tony when he ordered all three of the appetizers, main courses and desserts, being completely unsurprised and rolling her eyes.

"What?" He questioned, seeing her amused expression as the waiter took their menus and left to place their orders. "Now we can experience a bit of everything."

"You're a terrible decision-maker."

"I'm not," he protested.

"No, then why do you order every item on the breakfast menu every morning, rather than simply choosing one specific thing? Why do you always order more than one dessert from Emma's? Why do you always add more than one type of cheese to the grocery list when most of the time it goes in the bin?" She challenged.

"I like to have options," he defended.

"If you say so," she shrugged one shoulder lightly. "So, why are we really here?"

"Really, we're on this again?"

"Yes, we are. I know you're up to something."

"Can't you just enjoy yourself, live in the moment?"

"I hate surprises."

"You trust me, don't you?"

"With my life, yes. With my safety, yes. With my sanity, no."

He snorted. "You've nothing to worry about, calm down and trust me."

~000~000~000~

They'd just finished their main courses, simply having set the dishes between them as they both ate whatever they wished to, and as the plates were taken away and they were once more left alone whilst they waited on dessert, Hermione sipped at her wine, watching as Tony dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, withdrawing with what looked to be a see-through glass screen, only slightly bigger than her hand.

Recognising it as it being his super-fancy-tech phone, she'd assumed he'd received a message or email that he needed to see to, she hadn't expected him to hold it out towards her in offering.

She blinked slowly, her eyes darting between him and the device in his hand.

"What?" She asked dumbly.

"You threw yours in the river," he responded, his amusement with her actions clear no matter the fact days had passed since then. "You need a replacement."

"That's generous of you, but I can't take it."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can," he disagreed, reaching over to lift her hand with his free one before placing the phone to sit in her palm and drawing back. "I know you've got your bad tech juju, so I made sure to reinforce in. The thing's damn bulletproof, nothing can break it, not even you," he said confidently.

"Don't underestimate me, Tony."

"And it's so easy to use, a baby would have no issues with it. I've made sure to include Jarvis' programming, so you might use him when you're out of the Tower. That way you'll always have a connection to me and him, should you need it."

"Doesn't that mean you can track me?" She arched a knowing eyebrow.

"If I wanted to track you, I'd use other means," he shrugged. He'd done it before through security, traffic and ATM cameras. "Be grateful, there's only two people in the world that have access to this phone. Me and you. It's the most advanced cellular technology in existence, d'you have any idea how many people would kill to get their hands on it?"

"Then perhaps you best keep it," she held the phone out towards him. "As a precaution, one less person to lose it."

"No, I'm more likely to lose it than you are," he pointed out. "You're the responsible one, I'm the brains. Well, you're the brains, too. But you're the responsible one," he corrected. She rolled her eyes at him. "It's a gift."

"You've been giving a lot of gifts today," she remarked, reluctantly slipping the phone into her clutch purse before setting it aside on the table when he refused to take it back. She'd give it a week before it exploded in her face.

"I'm a generous person."

She hummed in response, reaching for her wine and sipping from it, her eyes locked in a gaze with him.

"So, will you tell me something else? Tell me another of your abilities?"

Tipping her head, she set her wine glass aside and nodded slowly, her brow creasing in thought.

"I don't want you to freak out."

"You won't," he offered confidently.

"Very well," she conceded, "Should I wish to, I can read minds."

He stared at her in disbelief before a snort sounded. "There's no such thing as telepaths."

"I agree," she nodded. "I'm not a telepath, but I can read minds."

His eyes narrowed and forgoing table manners, he set his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together and set his chin atop.

"Prove it," he challenged. "What am I thinking right now?"

"You're thinking I couldn't possibly know what you're thinking," she shrugged. "And no, that wasn't me reading your mind, that was a well-educated assumption. It's what most people think in this situation."

"Then read my mind."

"Tony," she began with a sigh, "I don't enjoy using this particular ability. Not only is it a gross invasion of others' privacy, not only is it quite taxing to perform, not only can it leave both myself and the other person with a monstrous headache, but it's highly uncomfortable. You see, I don't just see thoughts, I see memories and I can feel the emotions that were present at the time as if they were my very own, no matter the circumstance. Fear, love, lust, envy... I feel it all and I don't enjoy the experience."

"Have you ever ready my mind?"

"No," she swore. "I would never invade your privacy in such a way, and to be honest, a mind as brilliant as yours, I'm not certain I want to see. If your thoughts are anything like your behaviour, I imagine your mind to be a chaotic mess that would take time to invade. For someone like you, it would take more effort and focus, perhaps even a little bit of a shove. And had I read your mind, you would know. You might not know specifically what it was or what was happening, but you most certainly would've felt a presence."

"A presence?" He repeated sceptically.

"Yes. You ever get that feeling where you're not alone? Your certain there's someone or thing nearby despite knowing you're the only one present? It's a little like that. Perhaps a shiver down your spine, or a ghost of a touch against your skin? And if I'm routing through a person's thoughts and they try to put up a fight, either trying to hide something from me or trying to push me out of their heads, that's when it hurts and a headache's felt. It's an incredibly difficult skill to learn, let alone master. There are very few in my community that are able to do so, I knew three and they're now dead."

He tipped his head, his expression concentrated and thoughtful.

"You said learn? Are you not already born with this ability? And if not, do you learn it in that fancy boarding school of yours? How old are you when it's taught to you?"

Hermione paused in answering when the waiter arrived with their desserts, and once he took his leave, she selected her dessert spoon as she first wished to sample the passion fruit and lime baked Alaska.

"No, we're not born with it. I know I said my abilities can't be learned or gained through technology or genetic alteration and the like, but this is where it gets tricky. Everyone from my community is more or less born with the same potential, though it isn't uncommon for there to be others that are more powerful, but that's an entirely different subject matter. There are skills that can be learned, such as my being able to read minds, but it's so difficult and requires years of practice, that most don't attempt it, and it can be said for many other skills and abilities. Not only was I required to learn it for one of Masteries, at least a little, but I'd always had an interest in it given the level of difficulty associated with it. And despite the years that have passed, still, I am not considered to be a master of it. And no, it is not taught in schools. One, due to the difficulty level and most teaching staff aren't capable of it themselves, and two, it's not quite illegal, rather a bit of a grey area."

"Interesting," he muttered to himself, Hermione practically seeing the gears of his mind turning as he processed what she'd told him. "Read my mind."

"Tony," she sighed, "I don't like doing it."

"I'm giving you my permission. I've got nothing to hide, most of my life's public knowledge anyway," he shrugged. "And if I don't fight you, I should escape the headache, not that I know how to fight you off, that is."

"That's also a difficult learned skill," she supplied, "Again, one very few have mastered. It's the opposite of reading minds. It's the art of protecting one's mind from outside influences, and it's even more difficult."

"And you can do this?"

"Yes, I can. We refer to the skill of reading minds as Legilimency, and the ability to block outside influences as Occlumency. I'm a much better Occlumens that I am a Legilimens. It requires mentally constructing a series of barriers in order to prevent anyone from potentially breaking through. Giving that I've always been meticulous in the way I organise my thoughts, it came much easier to me. But it doesn't just allow for the blocking of other Legilimens, it also teaches how to properly decompartmentalise and aids in dealing with stressful or traumatic events, by effectively, shutting down the ability to feel or locking away painful memories."

"Read my mind. I want you to. I want to experience it."

"You're not an experiment, you're a human being. Did you not listen to the part where I explained it was frowned upon?"

"No, what you said was that it's not illegal," he corrected. "Come on, don't be a chicken. If word got out, there'd be a line of people out the door wishing to poke and prod at my brain. I'm giving you my permission to do so."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" She all but huffed.

"Nope," he grinned. "So, off you go, Poppins. I'm waiting."

Reluctantly setting down her spoon, she silently summoned her wand from the holster and held it beneath the table, out of Tony's view.

"For the record, this was your idea and I am not responsible for any fallout, including potential migraines, nausea or embarrassment."

"Yeah, yeah, got it," he waved an impatient, dismissive hand. "Just get on with it, we haven't got all night. Unless, you can't do it?" He arched a challenging eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"You asked for this, Tony. Literally," she reminded before taking a moment to close her eyes and focus her mind.

Opening her eyes, she leaned forward, her gaze locking with Tony's, her eyes searching his expectant expression before she whispered, "Legilimens," beneath her breath, instantly being pulled into Tony's mind.

It was too much too fast.

His brain, it was a chaotic mess, as she assumed it would be. Thoughts, feelings and memories swirled around her too fast for her to even attempt to latch onto one in particular. She felt herself being pulled into different directions, different thoughts, feelings, memories from different times in his life; childhood, adolescence, adulthood...

She couldn't take it.

She withdrew with a breathless gasp, leaning back into her chair, her free hand gripping the edge of the table cloth, her chest heaving and a bead of sweat swimming down her temple. Her vision blurred and she winced, feeling the dull thud at the back of her skull. Her vision clearing, she noted Tony's concerned frown almost instantly.

"What happened?" He demanded, his eyes snapping to the door and shooing away the waiter before he even had the chance to properly enter the room, scaring the poor guy half to death.

"It's too much," she muttered, her eyes closing and her head tipping back against the chair. "Your mind... Bloody hell, Tony, how d'you cope? I was barely in there a minute and I felt myself being pulled in one too many directions; it was uncomfortable, suffocating, claustrophobic."

"I didn't feel anything, you did nothing but stare at me."

"It requires eye contact, without it, it won't work. However, it is much easier when the intended target is asleep. The mind's less busy, calmer and rested and it requires less effort on my part. I didn't wish to harm you, so I didn't use force. I simply retreated."

"Can I make it easier for you?"

Sighing, she opened her eyes and lowered her gaze to his. "If you focus on one thing in particular? Perhaps. I don't wish to go digging through your memories or risk intruding on your privacy any further than I will be, so maybe think of something in particular that I might repeat to you, as evidence that I am capable of reading your thoughts. It's impossible to empty the mind unless you have the training I do; there will always be background noise, so to speak, so try to put your focus on a word or phrase."

"That's doable," he nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Okay," his arms lowered to sit against the table, their dessert forgotten. "I'll think something and you repeat it back to me... Go."

Taking a calming breath and doing her best to steel herself against what she was about to face, she sat taller, squared her shoulders and nodded in agreement.

When she slipped into his mind, she was assaulted, feeling as though she were being swept off her feet and she had to grip on for dear life and just as she was about to draw back, she felt the pressure lessen, all thoughts and feelings falling into the background with one standing out the most, bringing attention to it.

She latched onto it, it taking a moment to drown out the other noises and interpret it.

"You're wondering if it's possible to genetically alter a dolphin so they might be born with legs and the ability to walk on land. A much nicer and less dangerous crocodile, is what I'm getting."

Being unable to lift her eyes from his if she wished to stay connected to him, she was able to see the slight widening of his eyes but not his eyebrows shooting up high on his forehead, genuinely surprised.

Not only did she feel it, she knew that his thought was so random there wasn't any possibility of her guessing correctly.

She was once more assaulted by his thoughts but it cleared quickly, another sole thought being presented to her.

"And now you're thinking that Happy might have a bit of a crush on Mandy, the cute pink-haired waitress from Milo's."

Again, she felt his surprise before his eyes narrowed in challenge and concentration.

"The square root of Pi is 1.77245385091... The distance between the Sun and Jupiter is approximately 778 kilometres... The population of Ohio is 11.55 million... The estimated number of breeding paired penguins in the Antarctic region is 20 million. How do you even know that?... What do you do with a sick chemist? If you can't Helium, and you can't Curium, then you might as well Barium. Wow, that was terrible... Moths, you hate moths... With the advances in medicine and technology, the potential for successful resurrection freaks you the hell out. Who wants month-old zombies stumbling about the place?"

"Fucking hell!" He exclaimed disbelievingly and Hermione took that as her cue to draw back, her stinging, tired eyes blinking furiously to repair the damage caused during their staring match.

Tony leaned back into his chair, his arms folding over his chest and his head tipping back as he stared up at the ornate chandelier above. Silently, Hermione returned her wand to its holster and reached for her spoon, tasting the hazelnut mille-feuille for the first time before trying the banana and lime Paris brest. She decided she much preferred the baked Alaska but was much too full and so she set her spoon down and reached for her wine, finishing the remainder of her glass, it helping to fend off the headache.

Hermione allowed Tony the silence he needed, knowing that what she was capable of doing was hard to process for someone who wasn't in the know of or capable of magic. Several moments later, a snigger unexpectedly fell past his lips and Hermione blinked in confusion when it morphed into a laugh. She eyed him worriedly.

"Don't look at me like that," he chastised, "I'm not ready for the loony bin just yet."

Hermione was in disagreement.

He gave his head a shake before pushing away from the backrest and leaning forward, his forearms settling on the table.

"So, you can read minds," he said aloud.

"Yes, I can," she confirmed. "But as I said, I don't make a habit of doing it. It's very taxing and intrusive."

"It took a moment to notice it, but I did feel something, something different," his brow furrowed in thought before he nodded to himself. "Does Fury know?"

She snorted. "Most definitely not," she shook her head. "Do you have any idea what he'd demand of me if he knew what I could do? The infiltration, the interrogations he'd make me do of the prisoners, targets and those on SHIELD's radar? He knows the truth and he knows I've many capabilities, he just doesn't know what they are. He'd have never agreed to sell my contract to you if he did. He'd never allow me to leave; he'd hound my leader and threaten war unless more of my people were permitted to work for him."

"Hush-hush," Tony nodded in understanding.

They were interrupted when a 'ping' sounded and Tony dug into his inner pocket, pulling his phone out, peering at the screen before slotting it back into place. Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood and crossed to Hermione, holding his hand out in offering.

Silently, Hermione reached for her clutch purse and placed her hand in his, rising to her feet as he led the way towards the door, stopping briefly to retrieve her coat from the coat rack in the corner and helping her into it.

"Where are we going?" She questioned.

He looked to her, his eyebrow arching. "You thought I only had plans for dinner?"

She pursed her lips before saying, "Shouldn't we pay before leaving?"

"Already taken care of."

"I hope you don't expect me to allow you to pay for the entire meal? At most, we should split the bill."

He rolled his eyes. "Relax, Poppins, I can afford it."

"So can I," she argued.

"It's my treat this evening. No more arguments," he replied, his mouth twitching at her unhappy scowl. "And if we don't wish to be late, we best hurry. Harold is waiting for us outside."

~000~000~000~

"I can't believe it," Hermione breathed out, peering over the railing and down at the seated crowd below them. "I'm in the bloody Royal Opera House."

Tony snorted from beside her, distractedly flipping through the programme in his hand before he set it aside and dug into his pocket, pulling his phone free, his thumbs tapping away at the screen at an almost inhumanly fast pace.

"I'm sat in the Royal's box at the Royal Opera House. I didn't even know that was allowed."

"It is if you have money," Tony shrugged lazily. "And if you're on a first-name basis with good old Liz."

Hermione spluttered. "Don't be so disrespectful," she whisper-hissed, her eyes darting to peer over her shoulder for any eavesdroppers but they were alone.

"What? Lizzie loves me," he defended, slotting his phone back into his pocket and shifting to get more comfortable in his chair, slouching slightly, folding his arms over his chest and stretching out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

"Sit up," Hermione scolded.

"We're the only ones here," he rolled his eyes. "No one's going to bother us. Once this starts, we're in this for the long haul so you best get comfortable. We'll be here at least three hours, should everything go to schedule."

Giving him a look of annoyance, she faced forward once more, deliberately straightening her posture and setting her hands delicately in her lap to not only prove a point, but to make up for Tony's lack of manners, ignoring Tony's knowing snigger whilst she did so.

Moments later, the lights in the room dimmed, the chatter from below fell to silence and the curtains were drawn back, Hermione being instantly pulled in by the music and dancers filling the stage, her posture relaxing as she leaned closer to the railing.

Tony's mouth twitched, his eyes not transfixed on the dancers like every other audience member, but on Hermione, observing her wonderstruck expression, her wide eyes and slightly parted mouth, looking very much like an awed child.

It was only a few weeks ago that he and Hermione had been talking over dinner, the movie playing on TV forgotten, and although he wasn't certain on how they'd gotten onto the subject, Hermione had confessed that she'd never been to the theatre despite wishing to experience it at least once in her life, regardless of whether she enjoyed the experience or not. Tony thought it ridiculous that the woman was born and raised in London and later lived in New York and she'd not visited a theatre, two cities known for it.

And so, that morning after he'd arranged for Hermione to undergo a spa day, it had only taken a short phone call to ensure she was finally given the opportunity to experience a live ballet, Swan Lake to be precise, at the Royal Opera House.

And watching her relaxed, awestruck reaction, the way her eyes widened, her teeth nibbled at her lip, her hands gripped her gown, he thought she was much more entertaining than the ballet and he'd happily watch her for the entirety of their three hour stay.

At least he wouldn't be bored.

~000~000~000~

It was a little after eleven o'clock when they exited the Royal Opera House and Tony ushered Hermione into the car before climbing in beside her.

She'd been silent for the last ten minutes, a new record for her.

"You didn't like it?" Said Tony.

Hermione slowly drew her eyes from peering out of the tinted window and watching the passing cars and people on the street.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're quiet," he shrugged. "You're never quiet."

"Not quiet, contemplative," she corrected. "What I just witnessed... It was," she paused, a crinkle of thought appearing in her brow. "It was an experience I will never forget, an experience that was quite overwhelming and one, I'm sure, I'm not yet ready to experience again so soon. Between the atmosphere, the tension, the music, the dancing, storytelling... It's taking me longer than I'd like for it to properly sink in. But now I understand the reasoning for my gown. I had thought I was a little overdressed for the restaurant but seeing some of the clothing the other audience members wore..." She trailed off.

"Your outfit cost twice what theirs did, mine included."

"That makes me feel better, Tony," she snarked.

Turning to look out the window when the car slowed to a stop, Hermione's eyes returned to Tony's.

"Where are we?" She asked, noting that they hadn't returned to the hotel as she'd assumed they would giving the late hour and that they were returning to New York the next day.

"What? Did you think the night was over?" He offered innocently.

"It's getting late and we're due to return to New York," she pointed out.

"This is the last stop of the evening, I promise. We just have to make an appearance, make small talk, throw a little money around and we'll be out within the hour."

He stepped out of the car and after Harold helped her out, Tony took her hand and guided her forward, through the back entrance of a large building, she noted. After her coat was given to a member of staff and it was placed in the cloakroom, Tony confidently led the way towards the room in which men wearing tuxedos and women wearing elegant and couture gowns flittered to and from, a chorus of conversation being accompanied by a live orchestra.

As they stepped in the doorway, Hermione froze, her back stiffening and her hand gripping Tony's tightly at seeing the few hundred people mingling, dancing and consuming champagne and wine.

"Poppins?" Tony muttered in concern, gently tugging her out of the doorway and from blocking the path of the other attendees.

"I can't do this, Tony," she whispered. "There's too many people."

"Okay?" He drew the word out slowly.

"You don't understand. It's something from my past."

Tony's gaze slowly examined her frightened, horrified expression. Something to do with the reasoning behind her awarding of the Victoria Cross? He thought. Something to do with combat and battle?

"We live in Manhattan."

"We're in an enclosed space. Large crowds outdoors in the city aren't an issue," she muttered, Tony noting the way her eyes slowly catalogued the number of windows, entrances, tables, servers and guests, almost as if she were searching for threats.

She'd done this before, he remembered. He'd seen her do the exact same thing when they'd arrived for the dinner reservation; when they'd arrived at the airport; every time she entered Emma's, even when she stepped into the Tower. It was instinctual, he realised. But it was instinctual because it was a learned, repetitive behaviour. In her past, she was required to be cautious and suspicious.

"We'll be here no more than an hour," he promised.

He didn't want her to be uncomfortable but he did want to push her, to test her limits. He wanted to help her by forcing her to face her fears even if she hated him for it.

"A lot of them have been here a while, they'll be tipsy by this point, no threat level," he offered, feeling her grip loosen on his hand. "I'll do my best to not allow us to be separated but if we are, I won't be far, and you've got a phone now, just text me or have Jarvis send a message and I'll find you."

He saw her eyes close as she took a deep inhale and slowly exhaled through the mouth, and when her eyelids fluttered open, a steely, determined expression replaced the fear. She gave a single, sharp nod.

"An hour. I can do that. I will do that," she said to herself.

"That's my girl," he said proudly.

Releasing her hand, he settled his on the small of her back, his palm and calloused fingertips pressing against her warm, bare skin. His mouth twitched when he felt her shudder. Giving her a gentle push, she took a step forward as he guided her further into the large occupied room.

Hermione took in the marble floor, crystal chandeliers, stone columns, high ceiling and the projected images of children that were on the back wall.

"Why are we here?"

"Fundraising gala," he answered, manoeuvring through the throng of conversing and tipsy guests. "Tonight's focus is charities that centre on children, aiding with poverty, hunger, education, abuse and neglect. All money raised is divided between them. In this room currently are celebrities, influential members of society, fundraisers and a number of the wealthiest people in Europe," said Tony. "If you don't recognise them, that's not an issue, I barely know more than ten in attendance myself. D'you know how to entertain?"

"I don't like doing so, but I can work a crowd, if that's what you're asking," she replied, her eyes cataloguing those around her as they passed, noting that she did recognise some of them. Actors, pop stars, authors, heiresses, CEOs and the like. "I've experience in events such as this. In my community, before I moved to New York, I was required to attend the annual ball to commemorate the..."

"The?" Tony prompted when she paused.

"Never mind," she cleared her throat.

"This something to do with your past?"

"Not yet, Tony," she sighed tiredly.

Usually, he'd have pressed further but he held back, knowing it wasn't the time or place.

"My point being, I know when to smile and listen and nod prettily, and when to steer a conversation to a different topic or shut my mouth."

"You won't be receiving much titillating conversation," Tony remarked, stepping out of the way of a stumbling tipsy blonde and her giggling companion. "You'd think they'd have more sense than to get drunk at a fundraising gala."

"Please," Hermione scoffed, "I've seen the articles on your drunken escapades during public events."

"I was young then," he shrugged.

"It was last year," she deadpanned.

"But they were my events. And I've never gotten drunk at a charity event for children," he argued.

"Impressive," she teased.

"Not that I can remember, at least," he added and she sniggered at him, gladly accepting the flute of champagne he offered her after plucking it from a server's tray.

She knew she shouldn't have too much more to drink. Not only had she already had a glass of champagne earlier in the day and three glasses of wine at dinner, but if she drank too much champagne, she'd wake feeling awful the next day and she didn't have any Hangover Potion with her.

Tony's presence was soon noticed, being one of the most profiled guests present amongst the few hundred attendees, and Hermione plastered a fake, polite smile on her face, quietly remaining by Tony's side as people came to greet and converse with him and she counted the minutes until they could leave.

It took over an hour just for the greetings to be over with, and Tony had been all too proud to introduce her as Dr. Hermione Granger, one of the greatest minds he'd ever met. Not only was it quite flattering, but also embarrassing, especially when he drew the conversation away from himself and boasted on the numerous highly secretive but society shattering projects she was working on. Hermione had no idea why he'd said that; he knew nothing about her projects.

When she felt herself getting a little overwhelmed, she excused herself to use the restroom, taking a moment to enjoy the silence before she returned to the ballroom. She knew where Tony was immediately despite not being able to visibly see him, the large gathered crowd was hard to ignore and Tony stood in the centre of it.

Not wishing to have to fight her way through the throng of people to reach him, she stood off to the side, people watching. She was soon interrupted when she felt a presence beside her and she slowly turned to her left, seeing the middle-aged woman with grey-blonde hair pulled into a low bun, her dark eyes frames by dark lashes and crow's feet, a light rouge applied to her cheekbones and pink lips. Her gown was very conservative compared to the younger women present, herself included, but that by no means took away from the beauty of the ruby coloured silk.

"Taking a moment, Dear?" She asked kindly. There was a slight accent that told of the woman not being born in Britain, but that she'd been in the country long enough to pick up on the dialect habits.

"Yes," Hermione replied, "It's a little too loud and crowded for my tastes."

The older woman nodded before sipping from her champagne flute delicately. "Mine too," she agreed. "I believe we are the only two that are not stumbling and tripping over ourselves... I'm Florence, Florence James," she introduced.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione greeted, accepting the older woman's hand and giving it a gentle but firm shake. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Oh, I dare say I am quite relieved to have the opportunity to speak with you," she replied, "Of course, I couldn't help but notice your companion. Tony Stark?" She arched an eyebrow. Hermione gave her a suspicious once over and the woman laughed. "Not to worry, Dear. I am not fishing for gossip, merely just wishing to satisfy my own curiosity. Forgive an old woman."

"Old?" Hermione questioned. "You don't look a day over thirty-five."

She smiled brightly. "I like you," she gestured to her with a point of a manicured fingered before consuming the rest of her champagne. Once done, she stopped a passing server, deposited the empty flute on the tray and retrieved two full flutes, handing one to Hermione. "Come, let's have a chat away from the eavesdroppers."

She didn't allow her the opportunity to decline, her arm looping around Hermione's as she dragged her away from the wall and towards the tables, further away from the orchestra and crowd. Taking a seat at an empty table, Hermione was sure to keep her posture perfect and she set her hands in her lap.

"Much better," the woman sighed, taking a sip from her champagne as she sat in the seat beside her. "And your relationship to Mr. Stark?" She prompted. "Your beauty is undeniable but I've seen men and their arm candy, and you, are most certainly more than just arm candy."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat. "He's my best friend," she supplied. "And my boss. I work with Tony in his Manhattan office."

"Brains and beauty," she remarked.

"What makes you think that?" Hermione asked curiously. "I didn't specify my role. I might be his personal assistant or perhaps his personal chef."

Florence arched an eyebrow. "Is that so, Doctor Granger? From what I've overheard, you've four Masteries under your belt and are a licensed medical doctor. That's very impressive."

"Thank you," Hermione tipped her head. "It wasn't easy but it was definitely worth the stress."

The blonde laughed. "I can imagine. And your relationship with Mr. Stark?" She pressed.

"Friends, very good friends," Hermione promised. "And perhaps his personal chef, too. He'd live off fast-food if I didn't intervene and ensure he ate healthy, home-cooked meals."

Her mouth twitched. "I don't believe Mr. Stark thinks so."

"Excuse me!" Hermione's voice squeaked.

"As I said, I've seen many a man with women for arm candy and otherwise over the years, but what I've witnessed tonight between you, is more than just friendship. I'm not certain if you've noticed, but he's barely taken his eyes off of you, from the moment you arrived to the moment you returned from the restroom. In fact, he's looking at you right now."

Hermione's eyes widening, she darted a glance around the room, spying that Florence was right. Despite the distance between them and the number of people surrounding him, Tony didn't seem to be paying attention to anything as his gaze was focused on her, curiously looking to Florence and then back to her.

Understanding the silent question, she nodded and offered a smile, seeing his own nod of response before she looked away from him. He was checking in on her.

"He is very protective of you," Florence noted. "Men like Mr. Stark are all too happy to be the centre of attention and this evening, he has done nothing but bring attention to your achievements, and he did so proudly. Neither did he leave your side or his hand the small of your back, if only when you excused yourself. That is more than just friendship, Dear. I believe he cares for you."

Hermione blinked in surprise, a splutter sounding from her before she reached for her champagne and downed it in one.

"I apologise for my lack of manners," she began, the woman waving her off with a laugh, "But that's insane."

"Why? Are you not beautiful? Intelligent? Successful? Perfectly charming? I can't imagine why he wouldn't be interested."

"I'm not his type," Hermione protested.

"And you know this how?" Florence arched a challenging eyebrow. Hermione pursed her lips. "Exactly. Given those we choose to have in our lives, I am certain you know that not everything reported in the news can be trusted. And if you truly are as close to him as you say you are, then I imagine you know him better and more intimately than most. So tell me, is it impossible for him to potentially have feelings for you?"

Hermione's gaze lowered to the ground, her lip being trapped by her teeth and a crease appearing in her forehead.

"I don't know," she muttered quietly.

"I've given you a lot to think about," the woman mused. "And please do so. From what I've witnessed so far, and in the little time you've been here, you would make a wonderful couple. And if my words are what help to nudge you in the right direction and offer clarity, then I will be most pleased and highly invested in your relationship. I imagine it will make the news and when it does, I'll be sure to follow along. I've not read a newspaper in decades but I'll do so and later boast to my friends that I am the one that helped you come together. Now, a change in subject would be appreciated, I'm sure. You said you work in Manhattan? Did you come to London solely for the fundraiser?" She questioned curiously.

"No," Hermione shook her head, glad for the reprieve. "I wasn't aware Tony planned on attending the fundraiser, or that there was one, not until the car pulled up outside and I realised we weren't at our hotel. We had dinner and Tony surprised me with my first trip to the ballet," she explained. Florence gave a knowing, pointed look but didn't interrupt. "I returned to London to visit with my family, it was my Godson's birthday and I've missed many birthdays since my move. Tony had some business and offered to fly over early so that we might travel together on his jet. We're to return to Manhattan tomorrow. And your companion?"

The blonde looked out towards the crowd. "The tall, dark-haired buffoon with two glasses of red wine in hand," she began with an irritated but fond tone, tipping her head towards the man of her meaning, "Is my husband of thirty-three years. Jon Alex Larsen."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "The oil tycoon?"

"Oh, don't be so surprised, Dear. I believe your companion is much more interesting than mine. How did you come to work for him?" She replied, directing the topic back to Hermione.

"When I was around twenty-eight, twenty-nine, I was asked to work for a highly secret US government sector," said Hermione, seeing the older woman's arched eyebrow. "Tony hacked their mainframe out of boredom and discovered my personnel file, or rather, lack of. Without my knowledge, he bartered with my boss and my contract was sold to him."

"Men," Florence scowled with a shake of the head. "They believe they run the world, when in fact, we both know it's women. Without us they'd be useless."

Hermione's mouth twitched. "Well, when I discovered the news, of course, I was furious and I was sure to give my boss a piece of my mind before I was shipped off to Manhattan. And now, I'm actually happy Tony got involved. I'm much happier working for his company than my previous employer."

"I imagine the pay is much better," she commented.

"Incredibly," Hermione agreed. "He's an idiot, a clever idiot, and he's dangerous when there's no one around to watch out for him when he's conducting experiments. Luckily, my lab's below his so I can hear what he's up to most of the time and check in on him. We've both a tendency to get caught up in work and accidentally miss meals or forgo sleep, so we're lucky to have each other to rely on. How did you meet your husband?"

"On holiday," she answered, smiling fondly and her eyes seeming far away. "I was seventeen at the time, he was nineteen. My father took my mother and I to Switzerland. Jon was visiting the owner of the resort with his father. I hated him at first; he was arrogant, boisterous and dreadfully annoying. But he refused to give up; he followed me back to London and spent three months trying to win me over. We married the day after my eighteenth birthday and I moved to Norway with him. Over the years, we made it a point to spend six months in Norway with his family, and six months in London with mine, and now, we have three boys of our own, all in their twenties. Goodness, that makes me feel old."

"You don't look a day over thirty-five," Hermione repeated from earlier, receiving a smile from the woman. "Are you here for the fundraiser?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Once my parents passed several years ago, we decided to stay in Norway permanently. I believe there are a number of galas scheduled to be held in New York in the coming months, perhaps we might see each other once more."

"I hope we do," Hermione smiled. "And if you're ever visiting Manhattan, if you call Stark Tower and ask for me, I'll gladly take a day from work to meet with you."

"It would be wonderful to have a tour guide," she responded.

Hermione laughed. "Unfortunately, I've not long since moved to Manhattan myself and I'm still learning my way around the city."

"Then we'll get lost together," Florence nodded. "And I believe this is the end of our conversation. It's getting rather late and I best get my husband back to our hotel before he injures himself," she rolled her eyes. "And your companion is heading this way, no doubt wishing to steal you back."

They both rose to their feet and Hermione was surprised when the older woman pulled her into a hug before pressing a kiss to her cheek and taking her leave.

Tony appeared before her, his eyes locked over his shoulder and gazing at Florence as she coaxed her drunken husband away from his wine and out of the ballroom.

"Everything alright?" He asked, looking to her once more.

"Fine," she nodded. "Why?"

"In the last hour you've been talking to the woman, you seem to have gone through the entire spectrum of emotions."

"An hour? Really?" She questioned in surprise. It hadn't felt that long.

"At least," he confirmed.

"Just some friendly girl talk," she offered. He arched an eyebrow in question but she didn't elaborate further. "Have you met her before?"

"No, who was she?"

"The wife of Jon Larsen."

"Norwegian oil tycoon?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Lovely woman, she said she's scheduled to visit New York in the coming months for a few galas and fundraisers, and asked if we might meet up."

"Look at you making friends and getting a foot in the door with the trophy wives," he teased, holding his hand out. She placed her own in his without thought. "Well, the party should be winding down soon and we've been here longer than I promised, so let's have a quick spin on the dance floor before we leave. It'd be a shame not to do so with you looking the way you do in that gown," he said, leading the way to the dance floor.

"Looking the way I do?" She echoed, tipping her head.

"Have I not told you how beautiful you look?" He asked, his left hand holding her right and his right hand slipping to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him as she set her left hand on his shoulder and he began the slow steps.

"No, I believe you were so surprised you couldn't form words," her mouth twitched in amusement.

"Half the people in here haven't taken their eyes off you."

"Because I'm with you," she pointed out.

"It's nothing to do with me, Poppins," he shook his head. "Any last-minute plans before we leave for New York? Have you decided what to do about your friends?"

"Not yet," she sighed. "I'll have to sleep on it and make my decision in the morning. But I do have to attend a meeting with the Big Man that's in charge of the UK based community."

"About?" He prompted.

"We haven't really discussed what my working for you means, or the changes that have come about with Fury selling my contract, not in detail, at least. And George has asked that I be his son's Godmother, as well as the baby's when she's born. Rather than waiting for the paperwork to be sent to New York, I'm just going to fill it out and have it filed whilst at Headquarters, much faster that way."

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Why?" He all but pouted, looking like a dejected child.

"One, you don't have access or security clearance. Two, you don't yet know everything. And three, it's not safe for you."

"Why? If I wear my suit, I'm all but bulletproof."

"Not in that way, Tony. We're not savages and we don't make a habit of attacking people. You're in a different situation to most."

"Because?"

She brought her hand away from his shoulder and tapped the pad of her index finger against the middle of his chest, feeling his arc reactor beneath his shirt. He peered down at her hand, his brow furrowing in confusion before his gaze lifted to hers and she set her hand on his shoulder once more.

"Your arc reactor. The things we can do, there is a high possibility it will interfere with it and despite how annoying you can be, I like you too much to let you die, especially when it's easily avoidable."

"You read my mind," he argued.

"That's different. It wasn't aimed at your torso, and I'm only one individual. When there's a group of us, there's a larger output, so to speak. It literally emits from our being and body, and it can affect radio waves and technology."

"I don't feel anything."

"It's hard to explain without revealing everything, but when we do get to that point, you'll understand. For the time being, you just need to know that being around me... For you can be dangerous. And if I'm ever upset or furious to the point my hair puffs up like a cat whose hackles have been raised, you need to put distance between us for your safety, just as a precaution."

He eyed her oddly before reluctantly nodding and as the dance came to an end, he drew back before leading her through the crowd and out of the ballroom, pausing to retrieve her coat from the cloakroom.

She'd expected them to take the back entrance as they had before and although she knew the venue was filled with the rich and famous, she hadn't expected to step outside onto a red carpet, camera flashes immediately greeting them.

She felt Tony's grip on her hand tighten and he ignored the shouts and calls of the photographers and lead the way to the car, Harold already waiting for them. Hermione was ushered inside and Tony slipped in beside her, Hermione being grateful it was but a fifteen minute drive back to the Corinthia. She was exhausted.

When they stepped into the Penthouse, Sally being fast asleep by the fireplace and refusing to wake to greet them, Hermione said her goodnights and made for her room, but Tony stopped her.

Looking down at the hand that encircled her wrist, her eyes lifted to his before darting to his other hand that he slipped into his inner pocket, drawing back with a dark green, rectangular velvet box.

Holding it out towards her, Hermione took it from him reluctantly, opening it up and blinking down at the contents.

It was simple. Very simple compared to the diamonds she wore. Simple but beautiful.

A silver chain with a silver pendant in the shape of a dove. Not only was it her favourite bird, but it represented loved ones that had been lost. Bringing it closer to her eye line, she noted the tiny inscription of her parents' names on the wings.

"Happy Birthday, Poppins," Tony spoke softly.

Her eyes flew to his in surprise.

"I know it's not your birthday today, rather, it was on Thursday. Seeing as you didn't mention it before or after, I thought I'd wait to give you your gift."

"The spa treatment? Dinner? Ballet?" She whispered, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"All part of my plan to give you the best birthday possible," he confirmed, "Especially after what happened at your Godson's party. If there's ever a person that deserves it, it's you."

"The gown and diamonds. I can't keep it, Tony."

"You can, it's part of the package," he argued.

"It's too expensive."

"Not to me, and arguing over it won't change my mind."

Hermione closed her eyes as she sighed, resigning herself to the fact this was one battle she wasn't going to win.

"The dove?" She questioned.

"I know it's your favourite bird, and I know you've lost people in your life you loved. But doves also symbolise peace. I don't know what happened in your past, but I know it wasn't an easy experience, I know you still suffer the consequences, and I hope that this dove can bring you peace."

Her insides softened. They melted into a puddle of goo. This was the side of him only she saw. He was a sweetheart.

Snapping the box shut, she tugged her wrist from his hold before taking a step forward, folding her arms around his neck and burying her face against him, feeling his arms fold around her gently.

She wasn't entirely sure how long they stood in the embrace but when she drew back, she felt Tony's reluctance to let go. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she took a step back.

"Thank you, Tony," she breathed out. "The best gift I'd ever received was when Ginny went into labour on my birthday, and a few hours later, James was born, just missing out on sharing a birthday with me. I didn't think anything would be able to top that but you have. Thank you. I truly don't deserve you."

His eyes flittered down to her mouth briefly and when she turned and headed for her room, she felt his gaze on her retreating, bare back.