CHAPTER FIFTEEN


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

Don't hate me, but you're going to hate me.

It's not yet, but it is soon. I promise.

Q&A

Meldz - Yes, I am on A03 and Wattpad. I post under the same name as on here.


Page count: 16


She froze.

Her body stiffened as if under the influence of a Stunning Spell, but her mind spun so fast that she felt dizzy and nauseous. She clamped her hand over her mouth, closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, controlling her breathing and fighting off the panic that threatened to overtake her. She'd learned to recognise the signs of an impending panic attack and how to counteract it over the years, not only for herself but her patients, too.

He hadn't just said that, had he? She asked herself. She'd misheard him, right?

No, he definitely had. Even if it had been mumbled incoherently and he'd been drunk, it was too silent to mishear him.

Glancing down at him, she realised her hand was still consciously raking through his hair and she quickly drew it back and curled it into a fist, at the same time she took a final deep breath and uncovered her mouth, breathing out slowly.

What was she going to do? Why had he said that to her out of the blue? Did he mean it? Did he truly have feelings for her and the alcohol he'd consumed lowered his guard enough for him to admit it? Or was he simply drunk beyond belief, he hadn't meant a single word of it and neither would he remember it? She supposed she wouldn't know until he next woke. She had to broach the subject with him, didn't she? This wasn't something that could be left alone to be forgotten about, not on her part, at least. She had to know.

But for now, all she could do was wait for him to wake and sober up.

There was no chance she would be able to sleep.

What was she going to do?

~000~000~000~

She wasn't certain on the time of day, only that morning had arrived and brought with it a dreary, grey sky that promised rain. She supposed it was to be expected, they were in autumn, after all, and quickly approaching winter. It would only get colder and the rain would be replaced with snow.

She hadn't had a wink of sleep all night, her mind being hyper-focused on the two words Tony had muttered, the two words that had the power to change her life. She'd long since grown uncomfortable; her back aching, her feet feeling numb, cramp in her arse and the backs of her thighs, and a pain in-between her shoulder blades (not to mention a headache from her overthinking) but with Tony's weight, he pinned her in place and she hadn't been able to move for hours.

He hadn't moved all night. His arms were still wrapped firmly around her and his head still lay on her stomach, using it as a cushion, and she wasn't certain if his lack of movement was due to him being passed out, or if he was simply comfortable.

But thankfully (or not, she hadn't yet decided) he appeared to be waking as he slowly stirred, his legs shifting beneath the covers. She held still, uncertain of anything else she might do and when a pained groan sounded, it was a few moments later when his head lifted, his eyes squinting as he searched his surroundings. Tipping his head back a little further, he peered up at her.

"Poppins?" He questioned groggily before his head dropped and lowered to her stomach once more and she felt his hold on her tighten, deliberately. "Thank God, it's you and not some psychopath," he mumbled.

She pursed her lips and folded her arms the best she could.

"We didn't have sex, Tony," she told him, her tone disapproving. "And trust me, the state you were in last night, I guarantee it was not possible."

"Stop shouting," he groaned. "My head's killing me." He pressed his face into her stomach, hiding from the daylight.

"Are you going to let me go?"

"Don't think I can move," he replied.

"I've been here all night, Tony. Whilst you've been dead to the world, and at one point, I thought you were actually dead, I haven't been able to sleep, not only due to worrying about you choking on your own sick in your sleep, but because I haven't been able to get comfortable. I'm exhausted, I'm hungry, and I'm annoyed."

He groaned as he lifted his head to look at her through half-open eyes, and she felt some of her annoyance at his behaviour fade when he looked like a kicked puppy.

She sighed tiredly. "Tony, let me go and I'll fetch you a hangover remedy."

"They don't work," he grumbled.

"Mine do," she promised.

He looked sceptical and he reluctantly released her, pulling his numb arm from in-between her and the pillow and rolling over onto his back, groaning in pain and sickness.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he muttered.

"If you do, aim for the floor, it's a lot easier to clean than bedding. And I'm not doing it," she told him, taking a moment to stand to her feet and find her balance on her numb and stiff limbs.

Once she was certain she was safe to travel, she took her exit from the room and down the stairs, journeying to her own bedroom where she retrieved a Hangover Potion from her hidden potions supply in her bathroom. After pulling on her robe and slippers, she returned to Tony's bedroom but not before detouring to the kitchen, brewing a quick cup of coffee, dumping the potion into the hot beverage and making two slices of toast. With the mug in one hand and the plate in the other, she climbed the steps to Tony's room, seeing him lying face down in the centre of the bed, tiredly trying to swot Sally away as she sat beside him, licking his cheek.

"She's telling you to get up," Hermione announced her presence.

"And I'm telling her I don't want to," he said childishly.

"Drink this," she instructed, stopping by the bed and holding the mug out towards him.

He reluctantly lifted his head and squinted at her. "What is it?"

"Hangover remedy infused coffee," she answered. "It always works best when added to a liquid and paired with food." She lifted the plate of toast in her hand a little higher, bringing attention to it. "So, drink it. It'll take about ten minutes to fully invade your system, but you'll start to feel the effects immediately."

He swotted Sally away once more before rolling onto his back, muttering complaints the entire time. When he eventually propped himself up with the use of the pillows, he took the mug from her, purposefully sniffed at it and then took a sip.

"Why does it taste like lemon?" He asked, pulling the mug away from him with a slight grimace.

"Be grateful. I altered the recipe; it used to taste like shit."

"Language, Granger," he chastised before begrudgingly taking another mouthful of the coffee and accepting the plate of toast from Hermione, which he set on the bedside table.

"So, how are you feeling?"

His eyes darted to the mug in his hand suspiciously. "Better," he admitted, quickly drinking the remainder of the coffee and setting the mug aside before he slid down to lie on his back, his hands coming up to rub at his face.

Hermione couldn't keep quiet anymore, she needed to know.

She shifted on her feet and cleared her throat.

"Tony?" She began and he hummed in response, encouraging her to continue. "Last night, you said something..."

His heavy sigh interrupted her and prevented her from continuing.

"I'm sorry, Poppins," he apologised. "Whatever I said to you, I didn't mean it. I'm an asshole when I'm drunk, and I say a lotta things I don't mean."

Hermione swallowed.

"You... You didn't mean it?" She stuttered. She felt her heart rate pick up and her mouth go dry.

"Definitely didn't mean it," he confirmed.

"Oh," she said quietly, feeling her heart fall into her stomach and a wave of nausea wash over her. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel this way? She should be relieved, shouldn't she? "Well, if you didn't mean it."

She made to stand and leave the room so she might compose herself in private, but his hand wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from doing so. She reluctantly met his gaze, seeing confusion.

"Why? What did I say to you?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter."

"It clearly matters to you," he argued.

"You said you didn't mean it, so I'll accept your apology and we'll leave it at that." She tugged her wrist free and stood to her feet. "Eat your toast, I'm going to get changed."

She ignored him calling after her as she descended the stairs, needing to get away from him. For a small moment, she'd allowed herself to think that maybe he did care and quite possibly love her. She allowed the words of George and Florence to niggle away at her and lower her guard. She shouldn't have been so stupid. Tony Stark could never love her. They were friends; only friends. And he'd seen her in some states and various forms of dress, but in that moment, she'd never felt so exposed and she had to get away from him.

Before she realised it, she was running through the penthouse and to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and forcing her breathing to calm. Her hands fisted in hair and she fought back the stinging in her eyes, using her Occlumency to her advantage to help her through the emotional experience.

It took a few minutes but she pushed away from the door, stood tall and squared her shoulders. She wouldn't let him see her affected by him. She thought that following routine was best for her and so she stepped into her bathroom, brushed her teeth, washed her face and dressed comfortably for the day. She needed to get into her lab.

After securing her hair into a mass atop her head, she exited her room and headed down to her lab, slipping on her lab coat and reaching for her clipboard, continuing from where she left off the evening before.

It was an hour later when Tony stepped into her lab, finding her bent over a cauldron with a pair of goggles covering her eyes, and a pair of dragon hyde gloves protecting her hands.

"What do you want Tony?" She muttered, acknowledging his presence but not giving him her full attention.

"To talk to you," he responded, leaning against the only empty workbench in the room, staying back and giving her space to work.

"I'm busy."

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she denied.

"Bullshit," he deadpanned. "I know you, Roomie, and I don't like it when you lie to me. You're my best friend, I don't like it when you're upset and it's clearly because of something I've done. Seriously, what did I say to you? I didn't mean it. Drunk me's an..."

"Arsehole," she interrupted, "So you said. And you weren't mean to me, Tony. Just the opposite."

"What's that mean?"

"It doesn't matter."

He sighed. "You're impossible. Fine, we'll talk about this later. What did you give me?"

"I told you, a hangover remedy."

"One that actually works," he pointed out. "It's a game-changer. Where'd you get it? You could sell the stuff and make a fortune."

"It's not my recipe, so no, I can't. And I don't think my people would take kindly to that. It's part of our community and skill set," she responded, feeling his eyes watching her.

"Fine. Can you at least tell me what's in it?"

"Trust me, Tony. You do not want to know."

"I do," he argued.

"You don't. Now please leave, I'm about to add a highly reactive compound to the brew and I don't want you nearby should it go badly."

"That's why I should stay," he disagreed.

"It's dangerous, you don't have the correct PPE, and I don't want to risk it potentially affecting your arc reactor. Should anything happen that I can't control, Jarvis will let you know. But you distracting me is not helping me right now."

"If I don't hear anything within ten minutes, I'm coming back to check on you."

"Get out," she rolled her eyes.

"I mean it, Granger. Ten minutes," he repeated before he turned and headed for the lift, his eyes watching her until the doors closed and he could no longer see her.

~000~000~000~

Later that night, Hermione tiredly trudged out of the lift and into the penthouse. She'd been awake for more than forty-eight hours, she hadn't eaten since the night before, having missed both breakfast and lunch, and it had long since passed dinnertime, too.

Tony had kept his promise and left her alone all day, allowing her to focus on her experiments and get her mind and feelings back into order. And now, she needed sleep. Being so exhausted, she almost barrelled straight into Tony when he stepped in front of her, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"What?" She muttered, fighting back a yawn but failing.

"Dinner," was the only answer he gave, gesturing to the takeout containers on the coffee table.

Not waiting for her to respond, he took her by the hand and pulled her over to the couch, pushing on her shoulders until she slumped into the cushions and then he set a Thai dish before her.

"Eat it," he instructed. "I know you haven't eaten anything today."

"I'm tired; I'd rather go to bed."

"You can go to bed after you've eaten something. You need food just as much as you need sleep."

She didn't have the energy to argue with him so she simply took the food he held out in offering and made a start on her food, not being entirely certain what it was but it tasted good never the less.

"I wanted to talk to you today, but I got distracted in my lab and now I'm too tired," she told him.

"Was it about what I said?" He asked, taking a seat beside her.

"No, that doesn't matter. It was something serious, but to have the conversation would mean my having to reveal more of myself to you," she saw him perk up, "But that would be an emotionally draining conversation, probably for the both of us, but it is going to have to happen at some point and I'd rather get it over with. So, I'll be sure to finish up early in my lab tomorrow, and we'll talk then."

He eyed her curiously, but she refused to say more.

~000~000~000~

"Jarvis, where's Tony?" Hermione asked, the penthouse being silent.

As promised, she'd stabilised her potions and finished up early in her lab, but needing some time to steel her nerves and composure, she thought it best to take a quick walk around the block. That quick walk had turned into a two-hour outing with Hermione fretting and worrying over the conversation to come.

"He left this morning, Dr. Granger," answered the A.I.

Well, that would explain why she hadn't heard from him all day.

"He did? Why?"

"Mr. Stark received an anonymous tip regarding a terrorist group in Baghdad possessing several of his discontinued weaponry systems."

"Terrorist cells!" She exclaimed. What the hell was he thinking?

"Yes, Dr. Granger. A terrorist cell," he confirmed.

"In Baghdad?! But that's six thousand miles away!"

"5983 miles, yes, Dr. Granger," he agreed.

"And his means of travel?"

"His Iron Man suit."

Hermione sucked in a breath, worry filling her chest. "Can it even travel that far?"

"Yes, it can, Dr. Granger."

"And what is his top speed?"

"The current speed of capability is Mach 2, but Mr. Stark is working to improve it."

"And what is that?" She asked, exasperated. Sometimes she forgot that Jarvis was an AI system and not a human. It was easy enough given the conversations and interactions they had.

"Mach numbers reflect the speed relative to the speed of sound in the medium it's moving through. Mach 1 is travelling at the speed of sound. Mach 2 is travelling at twice the speed of sound."

"What?" She blinked slowly. "Dumb it down for me please?"

"Mr. Stark is capable of travelling at 2469.6 kilometres per hour. As such, he is capable of arriving in Baghdad within four hours."

"Wow," she muttered, giving her head a shake. She knew he was clever, but she'd never realised how clever he was. "What time did he leave?"

"10:07, Dr. Granger."

"Four hours, there, four hours, back, so that around six o'clock, not taking into account the time he's actually there," she said to herself, "So let's say, two hours. He should be back for eight o'clock."

"Mr. Stark is currently mid-flight for his return to Manhattan," he informed her.

Hermione swallowed. "And is he okay?"

"Vitals appear to be normal, Dr. Granger."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "What is his ETA?"

"Approximately one hour and thirteen minutes. Would you like me to contact him?"

"No, that's fine, thank you, Jarvis," she responded, looking to the clock. It was nearing six o'clock, so he hadn't spent long in Baghdad, it would seem.

With over an hour to wait for Tony to return home, she needed something to keep her busy and although she really wasn't in the mood, she decided to cook dinner, ensuring it would be ready for when Tony got home. No doubt, he would be starving.

She chose a simple chicken and rice dish and whipped up a quick chocolate cake for dessert. She was starving but she wasn't going to eat until Tony arrived home.

Jarvis informed her of him being nearby sometime later and Hermione left the kitchen, walked through Tony's lab and for the first time, she climbed the stairs to the rooftop, feeling nauseous the moment she felt the biting wind against her face. She squinted in the darkness before she saw the red and gold reflecting off the lighting of the other skyscrapers and buildings as he drew closer.

He landed with a heavy clang of metal against the raised platform, and she took in the sight he made for the first time. She'd seen it in photos of course, and in the news, but she'd never seen him in full armour and up so close, and it was certainly an experience.

"Close your mouth, Poppins. You'll catch flies." The armoured faceplate drew open and Tony gave her a tired smile. "If I'd of known there'd be a welcoming party, I'd have brought a gift," he said, looking between her and Sally who'd followed her up to the rooftop.

Hermione didn't laugh at him or respond with a witty comment, she was too busy staring at the dried blood smudged on the left side of his forehead and down the side of his face.

"Granger? Hello?" He sang, approaching and waving a hand in front of her face.

"You're injured," she muttered, concerned.

"I am?" He questioned, his brow furrowing. "Well, it can't be that bad, Jarvis didn't pick up on it."

"You've an injury to the head, Tony. That's always serious," she argued. "Stay still," she instructed, reaching up and turning his head to the right so she might get a better look at the wound. He tried to fight her but she held firm and gave him a frightening glare. "Any dizziness? Nausea? Balance issues?"

"No, now get off me, woman," he replied, trying to swot her hands away.

"How about blurry or double vision? Did you lose consciousness, at all? Do you have a headache?"

"Yeah, from you poking and prodding at me," he tried to fight her off and succeeded, stepping back from her.

"I'm your doctor, Tony," she pointed out. "I'm just doing my job."

"You're being overbearing."

"You've a head injury, that's not something to be taken lightly."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off. "I'm going to get out of this thing and I'll meet you inside," he told her, stepping around her and heading for the stairs into his lab. "Have you been cooking? I smell chicken," she heard him say.

She pinched the bridge of her nose before sighing and following after him, understandably, she beat him to the kitchen and took the time to plate up the food. When he stepped into view, he was free of both his suit and the blood and he appeared to have a small cut and a slight bump in place of the blood.

"Next time, do me a favour and let me know when you're going to unexpectedly jet off to a foreign country and fight terrorists."

"I didn't want you to worry," he shrugged, taking a seat at the counter and reaching for his fork as she set the plate before him.

"Trust me, Tony, I was worried. Did you not think I wouldn't ask Jarvis where you were when I came back from my lab and you weren't here?"

"Sorry?" He offered.

"Do you not remember how you felt when I was sent on assignment by Fury?" She questioned, seeing his frown. "Exactly... So, I'm going to assume this tip-off was correct?"

"They had five of my missiles."

"And?" She prompted.

"I took care of them."

"The missiles or the terrorists?"

"Both," he shrugged.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Only the terrorists and I freed a town from their evil reign, too."

"Good, I'm proud of you," she told him, moving to take her own seat and make a start on her meal.

Looking up at him when she realised he wasn't eating, she noticed his silence.

"What?" She questioned.

"You're proud of me?"

Her brow furrowed. "Of course I am. You removed deadly weapons from men intending to use them to harm others and gave a town of people their freedom. Why wouldn't I be proud of you?" She tipped her head thoughtfully. "Has no one ever told you they're proud of you?"

"No. Never," he admitted.

"Oh," she said quietly. "Well, I am. And up until today, I never realised how clever you are. Jarvis told me your suit is capable of travelling at twice the speed of sound. I didn't even know that was possible."

He gave his head a shake before he smiled at her, perking up and looking excited. "It is, and I'm working on improving it. I'm aiming for Mach 3 by Christmas."

"I'm sure you'll succeed," she responded.

"And you? How're your experiments coming? Any chance of getting results soon? And will you please tell me what you're working on?"

"Not yet, it's a surprise. That, and I don't want to get my hopes up should I not be able to achieve what I wish. I haven't actually admitted it out loud yet, so it's almost as if it's not happening. But the results are promising, the most I've seen in years."

"Years? How long have you been working on this?"

"Seven years."

"Seven years?" He spluttered. "Damn, I don't have that kind of patience."

"It's important, and it'll change thousands of lives should I succeed, and this is the first time I've been able to give it my full attention. Previously, I had other jobs or I was working for SHIELD. But the reason it's so difficult is that if it goes into the actual testing stage, I need to be able to show and explain my research and formulas, but I can't do that without revealing the secrets of my world."

"So you have to create it in a way that the people of this world can understand and without exposing your world," he surmised.

"Exactly," she nodded. "And it's giving me a headache."

"Do you need any help?" He offered.

"You're not a doctor, Tony. Medical or otherwise," she pointed out.

"That doesn't mean I can't help," he shrugged. "Give me a book to read as background info and I'll be ready to go."

She pursed her lips. "I'll think about it."

"You will?" He questioned in surprise, not expecting her to agree to let him help her.

"I will," she nodded.

"So, this conversation you wanted to have, what is it?"

She sighed. "It's late Tony, later than I expected it to be when we have this conversation."

"You promised we'd talk tonight," he reminded her, watching as she took their empty plates and forks to the sink before she removed a chocolate cake from the oven and placed a slice of it onto another place, setting it before him with another fork.

"I know I did, and I've been preparing myself all day, and I'm still not sure I'm ready. This is something I don't talk about a lot, and what I'm going to tell you, not many people know about me. It was kept quiet for my privacy. Eat your cake."

"But..."

"Eat it, I need the time," she told him, picking at her own slice but not actually eating it.

She was slow when she crossed over to the couch, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet beneath her, whilst Tony sat beside her. Sally soon climbed into her lap, being there when Hermione needed her. That was what familiars were for.

"I'm not entirely sure how to begin," she paused, collecting her thoughts and trying to choose her words carefully. "So, the night before last, Tony, you came home drunk, and not only had I never seen you like that before, but I have never seen anyone like that before, and trust me when I say, I have seen people in every way imaginable, being a doctor." She felt him shift on the couch and it drew her eyes, seeing that he was staring pointedly at the ground, refusing to look at her. "I know why. Happy told me."

He flinched.

"It was the anniversary of your abduction. Why didn't you tell me? You know I'd have been there for you."

"It's none of your business. You wouldn't understand. No one does."

"But I do, Tony," she disagreed, her voice softening.

He scoffed. "How could you possibly understand what I went through?"

She inhaled sharply. "Because Tony, I was once in a similar situation."

She knew her words would draw his attention, she was just surprised by how fast his head and eyes snapped towards her. Did he give himself whiplash?

"What?"

"It happened to me, too. I was eighteen."

She saw his face pale at the same time his eyes hardened.

"What happened?"

"Harry, Ron and I, we were together at the time when we were captured. Do you remember I told you that people hated me because I was a Muggleborn and that was the reason behind my parents' murders? We were captured by a group of people working for a terrible man. I am not joking when I say he was my community's version of Adolf Hitler. He hated us and people like me, people that weren't 'pure'. But what I think he hated most was himself. You see, he was a Half-blood, no better than those he despised. Harry and Ron were taken down to the dungeons and held prisoner, but I? I was tortured." Her eyes lost focus, her mind running away as her memories resurfaced. It was only her Occlumency that helped her to decompartmentalise and separate emotion from the memory.

"I don't know how long for, I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. It might have been hours, but it felt like days. But in my community, they have a way of torture they don't in this world and the use of it is an automatic and one-way ticket to Azkaban. It's known as being an Unforgivable. The result of it is unimaginable pain that does not cause physical injury if it is used correctly. And not only is it so painful that it results in its victims begging for death, but it seems to combine every possible form of torture into one blow. And should a victim survive, depending on the exposure, it is highly unlikely they will survive with their sanity intact. I have a friend from school. His parents were police officers and in 1981, they were both subjected to it. Thirty years later, they are still on the psychiatric ward, and their son was raised by his grandmother. They don't even know his name. He visits regularly, but they've no idea who he is, or who they are." Her voice grew distant and the only thing that drew her back to focus was feeling a warm, strong hand settle around hers.

She blinked, her eyes landing on Tony. He'd moved closer, her knees brushing his thigh.

"I was lucky. Not only did I survive, but I never lost my sanity. George said it was because I was too stubborn to let someone take my knowledge away from me," she smiled sadly. "I didn't escape, I physically wasn't capable. It hurt to blink, to breathe. Harry and Ron were able to break free and they rescued me." Her free hand came up to her throat, Tony's eyes following the moment and for the first time, he noticed a thin scar travelling across it. He was certain he'd remember seeing it before. "A knife was held to my throat, but we managed to escape. That day, a very brave friend of mine died. He died helping to save me, and I still haven't forgiven myself for it."

She closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of silence and peace.

"Our experiences and trauma are different, but I do understand Tony. I understand better than anyone can. And the drinking and throwing yourself into work? It's a result of you not facing that trauma. You haven't accepted or processed that it happened to you. I was the same. I had alcohol poisoning at one point, it's partially the reason I'm no longer a big drinker. But when I accepted it had happened, I started noticing that each day felt a little easier. It's been fourteen years and I do still have days where I feel the effects, but it's not as often. And I want that for you. You don't have to share what happened if you don't wish to, but I want to help you. And I can."

"The nightmares?" He questioned.

She smiled sadly. "They won't go away entirely, but they won't be as frequent. I do have the ability to alter your memories," she admitted, seeing his eyes widen at the revelation. "And I do have the ability to remove them, but I don't like doing so. Not only is it counterproductive, but what happened influenced who you are. You are a good man, and you are Iron Man," she said softly. "And I can't and won't take that away from you."

Her breath caught when she was tugged forward, arms folded around her and a head was buried in her neck, unexpectedly. It took her a moment to recover but she was able to free her arms and wrap them around his neck in return.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

Her heart sped up.

He shouldn't be saying things like that to her. He shouldn't be getting her hopes up. Wait! Her hopes up? What was she hoping for?

She swallowed.

"Let's hope you never find out. But no matter what, friendship or otherwise, I'm here for you and I won't abandon you, no matter how annoying you are."

He laughed. "I know a challenge when I hear one." He fell silent before saying, "I'll think about it."

It was better than nothing; she had to give him time.

"The people that hurt you?"

"Dead."

"Pity," he grumbled.

~000~000~000~

Decompartmentalisation was great whilst awake and needing to emotionally distance oneself whilst recounting traumatic experiences, but at night and whilst sleeping, it did fuck all to help fight off the trauma.

And that night, not even Sally could help her.

The memories were too vivid, as if she were experiencing it all again in person. As if she was back on the drawing-room floor of Malfoy Manor, an eighteen-year-old witch unable to do anything but cry and scream in agony. She was helpless, broken, scarred.

She wanted it to end. The torture, the questions, the taunts. Her life. Why wouldn't it end?

Her throat burned from her screams, her eyes stung with tears, her ears rung from the noise and her arm felt as though it'd been doused in acid.

And when she felt a hand clamp around her shoulder and another touch her face, she realised... It wasn't a dream. It was real.

Her eyes flew open, struggling to see through the tears blurring her vision. Her screams caught in her throat and she struggled to breathe.

It was his voice that helped her, coaxed her.

"Hermione. Breathe for me. In and out. I know you can do it. In and out. That's it, don't stop."

It was getting easier. She was no longer gasping for air and her chest wasn't constricting painfully. She could breathe and her vision was clearing, and it was Tony. He stood over her, his eyes wide with panic and horror, but they were familiar and comforting and she latched onto it.

"Good," he breathed out in relief, seeing that she appeared to have woken and calmed. "What the fuck happened?" He demanded, his hand moving from her face and shakily raking through his hair.

She opened her mouth to respond but her throat hurt.

"Fuck, Hermione! The power went out! That never happens; it's impossible. And I heard you screaming, I couldn't get in."

Her eyes darted to the door, seeing that it appeared to have been blown off its hinges; most likely with one of his gadgets.

"I thought you were being murdered! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Nightmare," she replied, her voice raspy and she winced against the pain.

She weakly pushed herself up and swung her legs off the bed and to the floor, ignoring Tony's attempts to help her. Standing to her feet, she stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door, catching herself on the sink before she splashed cold water against her face, refusing to look at herself in the mirror or at her reflection on the tap.

She retrieved a number of potions from her stores to aid with healing her saw throat and to fix up her left forearm. Due to the injury being caused by a cursed blade, it meant that it would never truly heal and whenever Hermione had an episode like the one she'd just had, it reopened and required medical attention. It didn't matter that fourteen years had passed since.

After drinking down the potion to help her throat, she rinsed her arm under the cold water before applying a wound sealant and a numbing agent, fixing a length of gauze and bandage over the top whilst it healed.

Knowing she couldn't stay in the bathroom and she had to face Tony sooner or later, she hesitantly reached for the door and pulled it open, being met with the sight of him pacing agitatedly. Hearing her return, he halted and turned to face her.

"What did I tell you about coming near me?" Was the first thing she said to him. "In situations like this, I'm dangerous."

"You didn't witness what I did. I wasn't going to leave you on your own when you needed me."

"I could've killed you, Tony. I would never forgive myself if I harmed you, accidentally or otherwise. "

"You'd never hurt me."

"I can't control it, not when I'm asleep and have no awareness of my surroundings. I can't control it when I do."

"What happened?"

She sighed. "Nightmare."

"That wasn't a fucking nightmare. No way in Hell. That was something worse."

"It's been a while since I've had an episode like that," she confessed, shifting on her feet.

"How long?"

"Three years."

"And what caused it?"

"The trigger was telling you."

He looked horrified. "It's my fault."

"No, it's mine," she assured him. "When I told you, I purposefully used my abilities to emotionally detach myself from the memories. As a consequence, it doubled the effects I'd normally experience during a nightmare. It made it real. It wasn't that I was remembering it, it was that I was reliving it."

She tiredly crossed to the bed and took a seat on the edge, her hand lifting to smooth through Sally's fur when she meowed and climbed onto her lap, offering comfort and checking that she was alright.

"Even Sally couldn't help me tonight, but I do appreciate her trying. There's a reason I couldn't allow Sally to stay with you when you offered to watch her," she admitted, lifting her eyes to him. "My people, we have familiars; they're our companions, guardians and protectors. Sally's mine. She helps to comfort me when I have a nightmare and most of the time, I don't wake and I'm able to sleep through the night. Ten years ago, I was having several a night, now I may only have one a week, sometimes none at all."

She shifted to get more comfortable, lying down on her back, her eyes closing.

When she felt the mattress dip under a heavyweight, her eyes opened slowly and turned her head to the left, seeing Tony lying beside her, his arms folded behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles.

"What're you doing?"

"If you think I'm leaving you alone after that, you're fucking nuts."

"Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged. "Because you need me, and it's for my own peace of mind. You couldn't breathe, I don't want that happening again when I'm not here. And you took care of me when I needed it, now it's my turn to take care of you."

"But why?" She pushed, feeling the grogginess settle in. "I told you, being near me when I have an episode is dangerous to you."

The potions coupled with her exhaustion and injuries were pulling her under, and just as she was taken, she felt a hand wrap around hers.

"Because you're worth it. You're worth everything."