Thank you to all of you who has read, commented, bookmarked, subscribed and Kudos this story, I am still blown away by how many of you are enjoying this story and how amazing and kind you have all been. I cannot thank you enough.

Thank you for remaining patient with me this last month, real life got in the way, and then when I was able to write this chapter I ended up rewriting it as some things needed to come to light, some truths needed to be revealed (though not everything) and it needed to be right, which I took my time in doing and I am happy with the result, though I have procrastinated for the last two days in order to pluck up the courage in posting.

Having reread the story again myself, I have noticed some mistakes in the previous chapters that I am going to edit once I get the chance, only to spelling, grammar and style and layout to each chapter, so there will be no changes to the plot.

Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

I hope you enjoy the chapter.


XXX


Chapter 11:-

Bernard sat alone at the desk near the magical entrance of MACUSA hidden behind the barrier that separated their government from the No-Majs world. His feet propped up in front of him and his book rested on his lap. The graveyard shift was the worst rota to have in many people's opinions, not much tended to happen and finding something to pass the time to not fall asleep was difficult.

Bernard was of the opposite opinion, he enjoyed the graveyard shift. Having a five-month-old baby at home, he found the peace and quiet a welcoming break and allowed him time to catch up on reading his favourite novels. Four hours had already passed, and he was already halfway through his new book, a luxury he wouldn't have had at home. Not that he could say he wasn't enjoying his son; Bernard loved him dearly, but he enjoyed the quiet and losing himself in a good book, more than he loved loud noises. Something he had quickly discovered after the birth of his son was that babies were loud. Not something he felt people had adequately prepared him for. There were times when he was at a complete loss at what to do to soothe his son's tears.

Bernard turned the page in his book, glancing out of the corner of his eye towards the sizeable magical clock that towered over the central foyer. His main job, besides directing any late-night visitors to the relevant department, was to monitor that clock and report any sign that the device was registering a threat of exposure. He was pleased to see that the clock currently wasn't measuring any.

He had only ever had to report one exposure threat in his career, and that had been Loki's invasion. A shudder ran down his spine, he remembered that particular incident all too well and the chaos that had descended on them all following him reporting it.

He reached for his coffee and took a much-needed sip only to promptly spit out the coffee with a splutter as the all too familiar noise of hands moving echoed through the foyer. His eyes darted to the Magical Exposure Threat Level measurer, eyes widening with horror as it moved from zero to four without so much as a pause at level one, two or three.

His pulse flickered in panic, and he instantly pushed himself to his feet. Had he tempted fate by thinking of the fact he had only raised the alarm once. To his utter horror, seconds later, the hands shifted again, moving with the clockwork sounds of ticking and wheels turning until it stopped on the thin line between threat levels five and six.

Level Five: - Severe Unexplained Activity.

Level Six: - Emergency.

Had he brought this upon himself? Tempted fate in such a manner.

The device gave a loud sonorous bong signalling it had in fact, stopped and indicating the dire state of the situation. Bernard had only seen the measurer stopping between those particular two levels once before. Fear gripped him tightly. Loki's invasion had been unexplained activity and an emergency.

Dear Merlin, he hoped the skies weren't about to rain fire on them all. They were still recovering from that particular event. Even now, the wards weren't as strong as they once were. Needing longer than anybody had anticipated to improve and reinforce. With a shaky hand, he tapped the stone lying on the desk and with a clear voice raised the alarm.

"This is Bernard Butterworth, the time is 00.30 January the 31st, reporting Unexplained Activity and that a state of Emergency has been measured."

The stone glowed and pulsed before settling on a bold red light. The moment the colour had settled alarms throughout the entire building sounded. Bernard slumped back into his chair, his heart pounding beneath his chest. His eyes widening as he stared up at the device. No one else in the department had reported emergency threats. The last one, before Loki's invasion, was over a decade ago and the wizard had retired five years after. Now though he had reported not one emergency but two.

He knew within in the next few minutes, Aurors would start flooding through the Floo gates as they responded to the alarm. Their response time had halved since Loki's invasion, having received criticism after the attack for their delayed response. The Aurors department had worked hard to ensure they were better prepared should a similar situation arise again. But years had passed since the invasion, and they had once again become lax, despite Britain's Wizarding World having faced a similar invasion in Greenwich a year and a half ago, but that had been the Ministry's problem and not theirs.

He couldn't say whether they would arrive on time to deal with the situation or whether they would end up needing to investigate after all the Magical Exposure Threat Level measurer only measured. It didn't pinpoint the location at least not accurately.

Bernard just hoped whatever the emergency was that it wouldn't have the same loss as life as the last one.


XXX


She could taste death on her tongue.

She could see it. The rest of the world was spinning around her chaotically, blurry shapes and muffled noises, but she was still. The steady beat of her heart echoing loudly through her. Holly knew it should be racing, knew that the adrenaline was coursing through her yet she had found a stillness inside her that seemed to stop everything. As though she was standing on the shoreline with a vast endless ocean before her. It wasn't an ordinary ocean though its surface mirroring the deep darkness of the sky above, shimmering with starlight she had never seen before. A well of power hidden inside of her.

Taking a breath, she dived into the ocean, into the vortex of power that was both timeless and ancient. The world exploded around her.

The Hollows were singing.

Her magic was singing.

The world around her was singing. A kaleidoscope of colours and patterns, swirling and turning. Holly couldn't make heads or tails of any of it. Except she could, when she stopped trying to, when Holly let her instincts guide her, when she let that living breathing power ripple across her skin and breathe like flexing a muscle for the first time. Testing its strength. Holly knew how strong it could be. Knew what would happen if she let herself fall into that vortex to deeply, knew precisely what kind of monster she would become and letting that particular beast out was the last thing she wanted. She could never lose control like that again. Never.

Threads upon threads upon threads wove themselves across her vision. Multicoloured, tangled, knotted, threads that spun into a web that Holly could only think represented one thing.

Life.

The web of life in its purest form, beautiful. A network that connected everyone and everything, and it glowed with that spark that she instinctively recognised. Magic. Magic was life. Life was magic. Holly could sense Graves, his pulse beating frantically, her eyes zeroing in on the vibrations they sent through the pattern, through the weave, to the greater whole. A ripple that loosened some threads allowing them to twist and weave into a new pattern from what they had been seconds ago. If she had the time to explore. To truly focus, Holly was sure she would lose herself in that web, lose herself to the weavings and everything that she couldn't comprehend when she thought about it too hard.

Except she could taste death on her tongue. Could feel the cold seeping into her bones. Could see two threads, two pulses dimming, weakening with every breath she took. Holly wanted to gather them up in her arms, hold them tight and keep them safe, yet something about that idea made her hesitate - made her think that doing so would be disastrous. Tilting her head, she studied both threads.

Clint and Jax.

They were dying, if the weave, the web represented life and each thread represented lives then these two weaker, dimmer threads were them. If the light vanished completely - would that mean that they were dead? And what would happen if the threads lost their connection to the web, to that spinning web if they frayed in their weakened state? Holly didn't have the answer, and she was pretty sure she didn't want it, but something told her that if she didn't do something, she would find out soon.

But what exactly was she to do?

The thread closest to her, the thread she knew belonged to Jax flickered. She was running out of time. With no real plan, Holly dived forward, reaching out to grab both threads in her hands, a zap of energy, and a warm tingle in the palm of her hands. Their lives fluttered in her hand, barely noticeable, Clint's stronger only by a fraction, and mostly down to the Stasis Charm that was keeping him on the brink and freezing him there.

She couldn't afford to use the Stasis Charm on Jax, not while he still had a piece of metal in him.

Think.

She needed to think. Her mind racing, searching for an answer.

What would happen if she was to weave their threads with her own? Holly had no idea if it would work; if she was honest, she had no idea what she was doing, or what the hell was actually happening. Trusting her instincts, Holly as carefully as she could she started weaving their threads, together with her own to their own unique pattern. Strengthening their connection to the web. A shiver running up the length of her spine every time the weave got that little tighter.

Her breath was theirs.

Her heart beating for their hearts.

She was clinging onto both Clint and Jax's lives with a death grip refusing to budge an inch, refusing to let go for a second. It helped, at least in Holly's opinion, that neither of them was willing to give up the good fight. It helped that both of them were fighting tooth and nail to live. She worked tirelessly. The Hollows vibrating within her, a surge of power passing between her and them. She could feel both of their lives getting a little bit stronger. Their pulses growing a little steadier.

"Potter."

Holly blinked, the colours vanishing from her vision as her mind caught up with the real world as everybody else saw it. A familiar face coming into view.

Williams.

Holly blinked in surprise. She hadn't been expecting him. What exactly had she missed?

"Yeah," she muttered, turning her attention back to Jax, checking his pulse.

Not that she needed to. She could feel Jax's pulse alongside her own. And wasn't that fucking weird.

"We need to get him onto a stretcher, so we can get him back to the Tower," Williams replied.

Her eyes snapped back to him, his blue ones stared down at her. She couldn't read a single thing in them. Either he was good at compartmentalising, or he simply didn't care.

"Tower, why the fuck aren't we going to a hospital?" she hissed, not able to hide the anger that tinged her voice.

"Orders," Williams replied, his voice flat, as though he was explaining the obvious, "Hill doesn't want to risk Hydra going after them at the hospital. She is attempting to try and get doctors to the tower now, but you are going to have to do what you can until she can."

Logical. Yet also completely fucked up. Caught between a rock and a hard place.

"In case it has escaped anybody's notice he has a large chunk of metal currently sticking out of him. I can't remove that. I am not a surgeon," she pointed out, her gaze hardening as she met his eyes.

Both Clint and Jax needed surgery of some kind, different operations granted but surgeries never the less. She didn't have the skill or the knowledge to repair the tear in Clint's arteries, and Jax's internal damage was beyond her. Healing wasn't something she could just throw magic at and hope for the best, she could quite possibly cause more harm than good. Holly's mind raced, searching for solutions. Only one came to mind. It was risky, it crossed a line that Holly was trying so damn hard to not pass any more than she had to. But then tonight she had had already crossed that line. And did she really have much of choice? Not when lives were at stake. So long as she was careful, they would only ever see the surface and nothing more. But it would bring questions, questions she would have to answer.

"Is Hill here?"

"With the Captain and the Director of Damage Control," Williams nodded slowly; a puzzled look crossed his face.

"Load them up onto the van, but do not fucking leave until I am on the van with both of them," Holly snapped firmly, before turning her attention to Graves, "Stay with them."

She didn't give Graves a chance to argue, maybe she wasn't fair to him, he had his own people out here, but Holly didn't have the time to be fair. Not when people were dependant on her. Pushing herself to her feet, Holly scanned the area. There were people in suits, moving around in all different directions. Walking around the injured and covering the bodies of those that had fallen. Holly hadn't heard of Damage Control before, but she had a feeling they cleaned up messes that were safer to keep out of the general public's hands. Searching, she spotted Hill next to Steve; talking to a woman she had never seen before.

Quickening her pace towards them, Holly hesitated for a moment as she felt the familiar prickle across her spine; her senses picking up that someone had just Apparated. Holly knew that it meant the American Aurors had arrived. Their reaction time on par with the Ministry Aurors if not a little quicker. She resisted the urge to scan the area, resisted the urge to look anywhere but at Hill, Steve and the Director of Damage Control. With the muggles on the scene, they would hide behind wards and observe from a distance until the opportunity presented itself to get closer. Flattening her hair over her scar, and doing her best to not look up in any direction, Holly approached Hill, Steve and the Director. She could see the tension across Steve's face. Whether from battle or dealing with the Hill and the mystery woman, Holly couldn't say for sure.

A quick look at the bonds that they shared told her that Steve wasn't seriously injured. Ensuring she concealed her own injuries as best she could, Holly approached the trio cautiously, reading the situation between them as she did. She could have sliced a knife through the tension that had settled between them. She could hear the irritation in the taut, clipped tone of Hill's voice, as she spoke to the woman in front of her. Holly didn't recognise her and had no doubt this was the Director of Damage Control. The Director was older than she had expected, grey hair set in a way that reminded her far too much of Umbridge than she cared for. She was of a similar size and frame as Umbridge, though her face was rounder, and didn't look like a toad. Dressed in a long olive green coat that came to her knees; a black skirt an inch longer peeked out at the bottom.

She was staring at a muggle version of Umbridge, could her day get any better. Though she had a feeling that the statement was tempting fate too much.

"The Hulk is not a thing, he is a person, Bruce Banner, and right now we need to fix our attention in digging him out of the earth," Hill said.

"I am well aware of the Hulk's origins, just as I am aware that Dr Banner has no control over his alter ego. The last two times the Hulk has run around freely in New York City has resulted in the loss of lives and considerable cost to the city," the woman said crisply.

The callousness in the woman's voice caught Holly by surprise, and she could feel her hackles rise at the implication of their discussion.

"He saved lives both of those times;" Steve said coldly, "Blaming him for what went down in Harlem is negating the involvement the military had in that incident. And we stopped the Invasion."

The Director didn't answer; she gave a smile that could have meant different things, before turning her attention towards Holly. It made both Hill and Steve turn towards her as well. Holly met the Director's gaze with her own, let the woman give her an assessing sweep and refused to shrink under the weight that pressed along her skin. She had withstood Umbridge at fifteen, and while she had learnt the art of diplomacy and how to deal with the internal politics of those in power as she had grown older, Holly wasn't someone who would bow down to others, and she wouldn't bow to bullies. Cocking an eyebrow, Holly gave her best, 'I'm not impressed' look, before dismissing the Director without a second thought, turning her attention to Hill.

"How are they?" Hill asked.

"They need a hospital. Not the Tower," Holly answered, cutting straight to the point.

"It's not an option we have. I don't have enough people to keep them safe at a hospital, and it would leave them vulnerable and endanger others."

"I have offered one of our secure facilities to provide you with the care your people need," the Director chimed.

Holly spotted the narrowing in Steve's eyes at the mention of the facility, and she suspected if anything was even worse than leaving them open and vulnerable at a hospital.

"And as I have previously stated Director Hoag that is not happening," Hill said, the tightening around her eyes and lips telling Holly this was a discussion they had had more than once.

"As amusing as your suspicion is of my organisation need I remind you that Tony Stark is also my superior?" Hoag smirked.

The amusement was clear to hear in Hoag's voice, and Holly had a feeling it was an argument that the two women often had. Hill turned to respond, but Holly cut across, not having the time for whatever they were refusing to budge on.

"Both Clint and Jax need surgery. I am not a surgeon."

Hill snapped her attention back to Holly. Holly refused to flinch. The cold anger in Hill's eyes was more than likely not for her, and she didn't take it personally, but Holly didn't easily cower, and she wasn't about to start now. She had been in charge of her own team when she had still worked as an Auror, Holly was used to leading and to giving orders, and while she had been happily playing to the tune of others, right now she wasn't going to back down.

"I have people trying to contact Doctors now, and get them to the Tower."

"They won't make it to the Tower," Holly countered.

It was a battle of wills as their gazes locked, Holly was aware that Director Hoag was paying close attention to both of them.

"What do you suggest?" Steve asked softly, breaking the growing tension.

She kept her gaze on Hill a moment longer before turning her attention to answer Steve.

"I have somewhere that can give them the medical attention they need, and it's closer than the Tower."

"Is it safe?" he prompted.

"Hydra won't be able to reach them. Whether it is safe in general depends on how much trouble we bring down on them," Holly replied cautiously.

Holly was well aware of three sets of piercing eyes, each one trying to unravel her statement and in turn her. Steve was frowning at her, and Hill was giving her a look she couldn't decipher. Director Hoag though was watching her with a curious glint, Holly didn't like.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name?" she smiled at her.

"I didn't give it," Holly said calmly, meeting her gaze with her own. Holly forced her body to relax, forced herself not to react in any way but the one she was currently portraying.

Hoag's eyes narrowed, a pinched expression crossing her face as she pressed her lips tightly together. She shifted on her feet, stiffening into a rigid posture. Holly got the impression she was used to throwing her power around, used to walking over people, used to getting her own way.

Hoag opened her mouth to say something, not that she had the chance, Steve had moved, blocking Holly from her view with his body, "Come on, you can tell me where you are planning to take them."

"Captain?"

Steve ignored Hoag's call, guiding Holly away. Holly wasn't sure he realised he was doing it or not if time wasn't so fucking precious she would almost be amused, as it was she was just annoyed.

"I hate internal politics," she said firmly.

"You and me both. But Damage Control is a joint venture between Stark Industries and the Federal Government. Now that SHIELD is seen as the enemy by the public, we need someone to clean up and keep dangerous substances from the general public."

Holly glanced up at him, "And she has to be a bulldozer, does she?"

Steve didn't answer which Holly took as an answer in itself.

"Where do you want to take them?" he asked, drawing to a stop.

Holly glanced up at him.

He was like a coiled spring ready and waiting. Holly could see the tightness in his face, the tick in his jaw. He stared at her, his blue eyes like two windows into the depth of him. Molten anger swirled in his eyes, and for a brief moment, Holly got the distinct impression she was looking into the heart of a volcano, bubbling away as the pressure built and built, preparing itself to explode. But it was more than just anger she could see, the anger she had no doubt was directed at Hydra just as much as he was directing it at himself. She could see that clearly in his eyes, could feel it along the bonds, his anger threatening to swallow him whole, and then there was guilt as well. Misplaced as it was, it was there. Holly understood that burden. She knew the weight of it, and knew from personal experience, just how choking it could be especially when people got hurt. Holly wasn't sure whether offering comforting words would help, whether he would even hear them at this precise moment. Yet she found herself wanting to say them none the less.

She reached for his hand with her own, surprising them both when her fingers brushed his lightly, "This wasn't your fault. Don't take the weight of this on your shoulders."

His eyes widened ever so slightly, and for a single moment, she could see everything he didn't want people to see. Holly couldn't say whether he was letting her, or because she dared to look closer. Pushing through the expectations of others he shouldered or even because those pulsing bonds were currently thrumming between them softly.

"I should have been better prepared," he said, his voice taut. Giving nothing away, other than the apparent anger.

"Steve, you couldn't have prepared for this. You couldn't have foreseen this. This, this is not your fault. Hydra is the only responsible party here. Hydra and their allies."

"I made the wrong call."

"You can't win every battle," Holly said softly, her eyes softening as she looked up at him. "Nobody can win every battle. What matters is what you do next? Do you do nothing, or do you pick yourself up, learn from your mistakes and keep fighting."

His eyes hardened, "We still fight. We carry on until Hydra is defeated once and for all."

She gave him a small nod.

"You aren't alone in this, Steve. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

Holly knew tonight changed things, changed more than anybody else realised. Hydra had changed the game, the witches and wizards with them had changed the game.

Thankfully she had planned for such a possibility; she just needed to put that plan into action.

But first, she needed to get Clint and Jax to the medical aid they needed.

"There is a Foundation Clinic ten minutes away from here," she said, "If Hill is worried about them monitoring hospitals they won't know about this one."

Not with all the precautions they had taken to keeping it as off the grid as possible. Not with a combination of magic and technology working together.

"It will be safe for all of us," she continued, "Including Bruce."

For a moment he was silent, didn't even so much as move as he studied her.

"Have Jarvis send us the address. We will meet you there; make sure Damage Control isn't with us."

Holly nodded, pulling her hand away from him aware of the chill that seemed to fill her the moment she broke contact, the bone ache chill that felt wrong, pushing it aside she turned on her heel and made her way back towards the van with Clint and Jax. She just hoped that she hadn't wasted too much time.


XXX


Steve watched Holly step into the van, the doors slamming shut behind her before it took off in the direction of wherever she was planning on taking them. Some would say it was a leap of faith in giving her the go-ahead, but regardless of the complicated knot of emotions that surrounded them on a personal level, he trusted Holly enough not to be a danger to his team. She had proven that more than enough tonight, as she had fought so fiercely beside them. Though fiercely was an understatement upon describing her fighting technique. Relentless was a far better word. She had taken hits. Steve had felt the searing pain rip through the bonds. Knew Bucky would have felt it too. It had felt as though he was going through the transformation process with the serum all over again. Fire had eaten at every nerve in his body. For a moment, he was convinced that his entire body was splitting in two. Not to mention the hit with a Chitauri blast she had taken, or the metal giant thing, whatever the fuck that had been.

And then she had lifted Mjolnir. Steve wasn't sure he could wrap his brain around that particular element in tonight's events, or the implications it signalled to.

Worthy.

Thor had taken it in his stride, but what kind of worthiness fit the category in being able to wield a weapon as powerful as Mjolnir. Steve didn't know. But he knew the implications of what her wielding it meant. Hydra had seen her use. Holly had not seen the look Rumlow had sent her way, but he had, once the initial surprise had passed only interest remained. Too much attention, mixed with a hint of desire. A thirst to possess. To possess a possible weapon, somebody who was more likely more accessible and easier to control than Thor. Steve didn't like it one bit. With a shake of his head, he pulled his attention back to the scene before him. One problem at a time.

Steve surveyed the area.

Muscles quivered, as his whole body tensed. Fists clenched and unclenched. Anger bubbled inside him, ready to explode at a moment's notice, searching for a way out as he did everything in his power to keep it leashed. Damage Control was busy at work, Director Hoag directing her people as they focused on clean up for both sites. Hill was communicating with Stark's security team as they attempted to pull the Hulk out of the ground. Clearly, she and Hoag had come to an agreement, though his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a few of her agents, raising their weapons ever so slightly, as more and more of the Hulk surfaced. From the angry grumbles, the Hulk was making Steve was sure this was about to end badly, with trigger happy agents. It was clear that the Hulk was rattled, and in turn, shaking those who were currently letting their fear rule them. Thor was close by, along with Tony, though Steve wasn't sure how much they would defuse the situation, they were at least close by should they need to distract the Hulk. Steve had faith in Bruce though, belief that he would pull through and rein back control should it come to that.

Steve closed his eyes, took a breath, trying to centre himself. He understood what Holly had told him that this...wasn't his fault, and yet it didn't stop the gut-wrenching twist of his insides telling him differently. He had made the call, had planned out how they were going to tackle both sites, and as a result, people had gotten hurt. He should have prepared better.

"Steve."

He looked up towards Natasha as she approached him. Taking in the bloody cuts and bruises already forming across her forehead and cheeks. She was limping slightly and doing her damn hardest to keep it hidden. Natasha was never one to show weaknesses if she could help it, even when she was in pain, but Steve had worked with her long enough to be able to read the signs.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied coolly, ignoring his concern, "We have two dead, a lot of injuries, both from our guys and the Detectives. Clint and Jax are critical."

"Holly is taking them to a place they can get the treatment they need," he noted, watching her closely.

Natasha didn't flinch under his gaze, but there was tightness around the corner of her eyes. The only thing that gave away what she was really feeling.

"Not the Tower?" she asked, her eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

"Holly made a compelling case. They both need surgery."

"Hill won't like it."

"I've authorised it. Jarvis will be sending us the address so we can head there," he answered, "She said it was a Foundation clinic."

The eyebrow twitched. Natasha knew something, he could tell that much, but he knew better than to push. Natasha liked her secrets, just as much as she liked finding other peoples and if it was an actual danger, then she would bring it to his attention, or deal with it herself.

"Rumlow is alive," he said, turning the conversation to something that he could actually get answers about.

Sharp green eyes snapped to him. Neither of them said a word, the weight of his revelation hanging between them. They knew the man, had worked with him and had to a degree formed a comradeship with him.

"I think he is running the cells in New York," Steve continued.

"Rumlow is a good leader, men follow him. But I doubt this is his show. He was Pierce's man, after all."

"He was after Bucky, Nat. They sent people to recapture him."

He scanned the area until he found the familiar form of Bucky, standing next to Sam, both observing and helping Stark's security team shift things out of the way. The bonds between them were wide open, a whirlpool of emotions and thoughts passing back and forth. Steve couldn't hope to pick apart to understand. The complete opposite to the cold stillness Holly was currently projecting through the bonds. Almost as if an icy shield was guarding her most inner thoughts.

"We won't let that happen Steve."

He didn't respond. He wouldn't let it happen.

Hydra wouldn't get hold of Bucky again.

Hydra wouldn't get hold of Holly either.

He would make sure of that.

"There was another player on the field, besides Hydra and whatever Enhanced they had on the field, there was another player, and they took out Hydra Agents like nobody I have seen before. They were definitely Enhanced."

"I will reach out to some contacts; see if they have heard of any Enhanced individuals taking up the fight," Natasha replied, her eyes hiding whatever thoughts she had on that particular news.

He nodded. Steve wasn't sure that she would find anything, he wasn't sure exactly why, but there had been something about that Enhanced that had seemed familiar, like a tug on the back of his mind he couldn't quite place. A roar pierced the air, followed quickly by shouts and the sounds of guns. Steve moved. Natasha right alongside him. He could see Thor already moving to intercept the Hulk as he managed to break himself free of the remaining confinements of his earthly prison, how Tony was already putting himself in the middle of the Damage Control Agents and the Hulk. Hulk's head moved from side to side, anger twisting across his face, as he let out another roar.

"Easy Big Guy, bad guys have gone, it's just us," Tony soothed, or at least attempted to.

Steve wasn't sure it worked; not considering the Hulk took three steps forward, forcing the agents to raise their guns a little higher as they involuntarily stepped back. Green eyes darted, back and forth as the Hulk seemed to scan every shadow.

"Shadows have gone?"

Steve blinked in surprise, "Shadows?"

"Right," Tony whistled, "Big guy here seemed to sense something in the shadows. He kind of wanted to smash them; he could have picked up on something my scanners weren't. Something new in their cloaking technology."

"If it was cloaking technology," Bucky said his tone a blade that whispered warning.

Steve snapped his attention to him. Bucky's eyes were ablaze, a stormy blue, hardened and cold. No emotion crossed his face, a slither of the Soldier bleeding through. Bucky had called on the Soldier at some point this evening. Steve could sense the lingering boost of energy crossing the bonds, tempered with an edge that stroked like a razor across his skin.

"We can discuss it in when we debrief," he said, his tone final and leaving no room for arguments.

Steve was well aware of the attention of Damage Control Agents, of Hoag fixing her gaze their way, despite Hill talking to her. He hated the bureaucracy of it all. His phone vibrated, a quick check showed him the notification Jarvis had sent with the address Holly had taken Clint and Jax.

"We are done here. Let's leave Damage Control to do their jobs," he stated, "We need to meet Holly at where she has taken Clint and Jax."

Bucky straightened, fixing him with a look.

"Right, she's not taking them back to the Tower?" Tony asked slowly, a frown crossing his face as he communicated with Jarvis.

"Clint and Jax wouldn't have survived to make it there. They needed surgery, and she knew a place."

"Where exactly, because Jarvis is stating the address is some kind of hotel which has been abandoned for years."

"She said it was a clinic."

"Definitely no clinic registered here," Tony argued.

"She said it was a Foundation Clinic," Steve countered through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin.

He noticed the glint in Tony's eyes, a small smirk crossing his lips.

"Well, I suppose she would know."

Steve froze, "What exactly is that supposed to mean Tony?"

"She's the Founder of the Foundation," he answered, "Girls rich. Not my level rich, but rich enough that in truth, she sure as hell doesn't need to work. For like six or seven lifetimes, not that there is much of a trial of her finances I might add."

His eyes snapped to Bucky as anger vibrated through the bonds, something dark and exquisitely dangerous moved in the depths of his eyes as he pinned a look at Tony. Something that all of them noticed, a shift washing over them all and for a second, even Tony's seemed to hesitate before he hid it quickly. On the surface, not much appeared to phase Tony Stark, but Steve was slowly starting to realise that wasn't always the case.

"You looked into her finances?" Bucky said. His voice like ice.

"I had Jarvis look into her period. Do you know she doesn't have a single social media account, no internet presence at all," Tony replied.

"Now isn't the time or the place. We can discuss this when there aren't so many people to overhear," Steve said firmly, taking a step closer towards Bucky, aware that Sam had on the opposite side.

"I'm just saying the Foundation she stopped working for, she set up, Holly owns it," Tony continued as they moved towards their vehicles, "Its a surprise she walked away from it."

Steve couldn't answer him, his mind spinning with questions of his own, it was clear that there was a lot more to Holly than they realised.


XXX


Edward looked past the thin barrier that hid him from sight, frowning as the scene unfolded below. He couldn't lie and say life had gotten easier in the last few years in ensuring the security of the magical world stayed secure.

It hadn't, not by a long shot.

Not since the No-Maj Tony Stark had stepped into the limelight and declared himself Iron Man and the Wizarding World started to realise that No-Majs were far more advanced than they realised. Months later, Hulk and Abomination tore through Harlem as if it was paper. Causing a nest of ghouls hidden in one of the buildings to flee. At New Mexico Asgardians returned to Earth, bringing with them the firm reminder of their might. Then Loki invaded with his army, and the Avengers were born. No, the last few years had made his job all the more difficult. The criminal underworld more than happy to trade things off with the No-Majs world and pass it off as alien technology, and not to mention the wizards and witches that then attempted to use said alien technology to not be caught for their own crimes.

The world was changing. There was no arguing against that. Edward wasn't sure that the Wizarding World was ready for it. Wasn't sure that they could keep on going as they had in the hopes that it wouldn't affect them. Tonight was a prime example. Their senses had picked up on magic, large quantities used with No-Majs insight, and yet upon arrival, it was clear to him, that the Avengers were involved in some way.

Were they now picking up on energy that wasn't just magic?

Or even worse, was magic still involved in some way? There was still a lingering taint, a scent, a feel on the air pressing down. Edward's Auror instincts picking up on it instantly to recognise it for what it was. But it wasn't enough to be able to track, not enough to identify who the culprit was.

"Sir."

He glanced towards his second in command. O'Brien, a grim look crossing her face.

"Report," he ordered, glancing back towards the scene unfolding below, eyes narrowing.

"The readings are definitely picking on the use of magic," she answered, "There is no sign of any witches or wizards, nor at the secondary site. It hard to say for certain, the Asgardian magic could be interfering."

Edward snapped his attention back to O'Brien swallowing the grimace that threatened to escape. He needed to remain calm to ensure his Aurors didn't panic. Panic was the last thing that needed to happen. The report was the last thing he wanted it to be. It would have been far better for it to be alien, for it to be Asgardian than it was for it to be magic. Thankfully as the Captain of Aurors, he only had to report it to the Chief Auror who would see that it would reach the President, but even that was a job he wasn't looking forward to.

"So whoever is responsible for the spike has fled the scene. Can we get close enough without interfering with the No-Majs?"

"No, Sir. Not with the Asgardian on the scene, he would sense us."

He bit down on the words that wanted to escape. Losing control was not the way to go.

"Have a team monitor the situation, as soon as the No-Majs leave, move in. Sweep the area; find any trace of anything that could give us a lead as to who was responsible," Edward ordered, his tone short, leaving no room for argument.

It would be a nightmare filing the paperwork for overtime for everyone, and the Finance Department would kick up a Pixie swarm about it, but there was no other option. The matter needed to be resolved quickly.

He continued, "We will be hitting overtime, pulling all Aurors in unless they are on a vital assignment."

"Yes, Sir."

Edward turned his attention back to the scene with the No-Majs. The Avengers were leaving, moving out. In truth, he didn't know what to make of the team of superheroes. Their abilities making them more than simple No-Majs, and yet they were still No-Majs. He wouldn't personally like to face any of them across the battlefield.

How would the Hulk react to magic?

What about the Super-soldiers?

And yet one day in the future it was a genuine possibility that it may come down to the Wizarding World against such No-Majs. Edward prayed that it wouldn't be in his time, but the world was changing. Faster than they could keep up. All he could do was prepare as best he could, and ensure that his people were ready and hope it would be enough. With a soft pop, he apparated off the rooftop of the warehouse.


XXX


He landed with a groan, his stomach-turning. It was only an iron will and years of training that stopped him from heaving his guts up. Others weren't so composed as several of his men, promptly doubled over and brought up whatever was in their stomachs. The stomach-acid of vomit filled his nose, mixed with blood and death. Brock pushed himself to his feet, barely sparing a glance at those who were emptying their stomachs as he moved from the landing zone. If it was under normal circumstances he perhaps would have growled at them to pull themselves together, but travelling as they had, he couldn't blame them.

It was only his second time using a Portkey, and it wasn't something he wanted to repeat any time soon.

"Find out how many we lost," he barked at Rollins, as he the other man took his weapon off him. He knew he had lost men, good men, men that the new ones wouldn't be able to replace so easily.

"That including the magic freaks?" Rollins asked, throwing a sideward glance towards said magic users.

"Including them, but unless you want your eyeballs boiled while they are still inside your skull, I wouldn't recommend calling them that in their hearing."

Rollins shot him an amused look, "Oh, they aren't freaks because of magic; they are freaks because they're freaks."

Brock couldn't argue that logic; not really, there was something about this particular batch assigned to work alongside him that rubbed him up the wrong way. All twisted and broken.

And considering what he was capable of, that said something in his eyes.

"Just get a report of the dead. And the injured," Brock added, leaving the room that had been set up as their point arrival.

He passed through a set of double doors, leading to a large hallway, before finding the familiar path he needed to take him where he needed to be. His eyes scanned the shadows, more out of habit, than fear an enemy was lurking. Brock knew this house; this manor was as safe as it could be, so long as you didn't piss off the owner. It was off-grid, and hidden under layers of magic he didn't understand, nobody would be able to find it unless they had an invitation, and the owner by all accounts very rarely invited people over. His mind raced over the night's events. Playing back over and over. It had been presumed that the witches and wizards would give them an edge, and it had to a degree, but damn it luck had clearly been on the Avengers side, on the Captain. An unknown choosing to interfere was something nobody had foreseen.

It didn't take him long to reach his destination, not bothering to knock, he stepped inside. It was a large circular room that held a combination of books and other things that he still wasn't able to fully wrap his mind around. Scanning the place he took note of its occupants, barely acknowledging the two magic users who had led their respective teams at each site. Instead, he turned his attention on the others who occupied the room. Each deadly in their own way. Whitehall, who had taken up the leadership of Hydra in America since the fall of Pierce. Malick, who Pierce had cautioned him to be weary off, fear lacing his words in a way Brock had never heard before. Brock finally turned his attention to the owner of the house and in his opinion the true puppet master.

A glass of red wine in one hand as she sat in the large black leather chair behind the mahogany desk, looking content and serene.

He didn't buy it for a second. He may not have had a drop of magic in him, but even he could feel the power emanating from the witch like a carpet announcing her presence. She was dressed in a scarlet red dress that looked more appropriate for a social event than for a meeting. Dark brown hair framed her face, drawing attention to high-cheek bones and painted lips. Despite the circumstances, despite the situation, he couldn't help but notice her. She was beautiful, but she knew she was beautiful and she played it to her advantage. A smile crept along her lips as she met his gaze with her own, amusement glistening in them, before she turned her head, dismissing him with the slightest of gestures.

"What happened?" Whitehall asked, barely sparing a glance his way.

"There were complications," Brock answered, glancing towards the Doctor.

An oversimplification, but it best described what went down.

"Explain."

Brock could hear the patronising note in Whitehall's voice, and the scrutiny in his gaze. He had learnt Whitehall tended to treat the rest of the world as though they were children. Unable to grasp or understand the inner workings of the world around them. Brock found himself relaying the events as they unfolded, confirming up to the point of confrontation that everything had been going according to plan.

"A three-headed dog?" Malick asked an eyebrow raised as he gripped his whisky glass in his hands.

"It was made of metal, it tore through my men."

"Ethan reports that another player entered the field, one that appeared to surprise the Avengers as much as they surprised you," the witch said softly, her voice carrying a musical note that seemed to wrap itself around him, invading his mind.

He looked towards the fireplace on the other side of the room, concentrating on anything but her voice. He had seen how easily she could ensnare the unwary.

"A hooded figure. It appeared they were using magic."

"They were using magic!" Ethan hissed.

"Quiet Ethan, let the grown-ups talk," she chided, turning her brown eyes back to him again.

Brock knew the importance of obedience, of following orders, but the blind devotion Ethan, and the other magic users had for the witch was unsettling. He knew loyalty, he was loyal to the cause, Brock followed orders, but he used his head when he needed to. The magic users didn't seem to. It could be down to the fact that they were young, fresh-faced and inexperienced, but Brock had a feeling it went deeper than that, that it was more than that. Not quite in the same way that Hydra had controlled the Soldier but something more profound than mere loyalty. The twisted feeling that implication left him with was unsettling. Brock had learnt long ago to ignore those tugs on his conscious, and the only other time one had tugged hard enough to make him pause, to make him look back and hesitate had been when the Soldier had screamed in the machine that wiped his memories. It hadn't stopped him from continuing on, but something had planted in the back of his mind in that moment seeds of doubt about Hydra. Had it not been for the offer of healing when Rollins had busted him out of the hospital, he would have walked away in a different direction, worked on his own plan of revenge against the Captain.

"I have no doubt another witch or wizard has entered the field, their identity a mystery, and it is clear they wish for it to remain that way. While we were able to retrieve Jennings before anybody found him, his mind has been Obliviated," she continued, "Such an occurrence was expected, if not exactly when. This changes nothing gentlemen."

"It changes everything, and you know it," Malick snorted.

"No, it doesn't. We continue forward," she smirked.

"And what exactly is the next step, we failed to take out the Avengers," Whitehall said.

"Misdirection, gentlemen, misdirection. The Avengers are going to be too busy to do anything but chase their own tail in the coming weeks," she chimed, taking a sip of her wine, "We have them on alert, the weapons deal went through, and right now every gang in New York City has Chitauri weapons at their disposal. Chaos will descend on the city in the next few days."

She rose from her seat, gracefully, and moved around the desk, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. His eyes followed her, until she stopped at the centre of the room, pulling her wand out of the sleeve of her dress she waved it in a complicated movement, the room lighting up, as various images flared to life. Some seemed to be nothing of interest. Buildings that appeared derelict, uninhabitable. Ones you would pass in the street without paying any attention to them, but then there were others, others Brock recognised as landmarks.

Statue of Liberty.

Empire State Building.

"Gentlemen, our targets. We have six weeks to prepare before our first attack," she explained, a building glowed bright, before zooming in closer.

"Empty buildings, historical monuments, what is this Nimueh?" Whitehall snapped.

"Links in a chain. Remove one, and you start to weaken the armour, remove more than one and this particular armour will unravel," she answered with a soft laugh, "Did you honestly think you were the only ones that monopolized the storage of dangerous weapons. I assure you the Wizarding World has been doing it for centuries. And hidden in New York City, is the Vault. Full of weapons that will allow us, to burn this world to the ground and remake it in our own image."

"And what image is that?"

Nimueh smiled a sweet smile that hid razor-sharp teeth, as power blazed in her eyes. "The image that my grandfather had. The image you followed him for Werner Reinhardt. My grandfather's family threw him away because he didn't have magic, but I have that magic now, and I have everything they denied him and my father."

"Something more beautiful than it ever was before," Whitehall mused.

"A new world order, for the Greater Good," Nimueh hummed her agreement, raising her wine glass in a salute before taking a sip.

"From chaos, comes order," Whitehall agreed, a glint shining in his eyes.

Brock had heard that saying more times than he had cared to count, Pierce had uttered it more than once, with the goal of a New World Order. But Nimueh's words for the Greater Good were new. It was a pretty dream to have, but one that both Schmidt and Pierce failed to achieve. Years of experience told him it was too good to be true. Nimueh had said the right words, had offered the right temptations but she hadn't revealed everything, and for the moment she had blinded both Whitehall and Malick with the carrots she was dangling before them.

Brock didn't trust her.

She was keeping things, her own goals and agendas to herself; why else would she wait until the reveal of Hydra to come forward, to offer her aid, to provide her resources, to claim the connection to the Red Skull. There had always been rumours he had a son, but no one was able to find that son. Now, a granddaughter had come forth with the same goal, the same vision.

Hydra had known about the Wizarding World since World War 2, since the Red Skull had worked with a wizard, despite not having magic himself. They had in some way worked alongside the few witches and wizards that believed in their cause in the years that followed but never before had one dared to take a position of power with Hydra. Even while sharing the same goals, the magic users had kept themselves separate.

But something had changed.

Brock just wasn't sure what. For the moment all he could do, was hold his tongue, ensure he played his part and keep himself and his men alive long enough for him to take his revenge on Steve Rogers before those in power got him killed.


XXX


"Potter, this is an empty building."

Holly glanced up at the driver, realising that the van had come to a stop.

"Never judge a book by its cover," she murmured, "Pull up around the side, you will see an entrance for underground parking. We need to be there."

The Foundation Clinic front entrance was on the corner of a crossroad. Consisting of what had once been several abandoned buildings purchased together and eventually knocked through to make a hotel. The hotel had lain empty for years, except for the squatters and drug users that had taken up residency, after the owner, a less than honest businessman had fallen on even harder times which resulted in pissing off the wrong person and a timely disappearance. Whether by his own choice or not, Holly had never found out, but when the hotel had come upon the market, Holly had purchased the property with a vision in mind of making a safe house for those that needed it, a little extra work had also ensured it had a free medical clinic attached as well.

"You will need to enter the code 31101981, at the gate pad," she added as an afterthought.

Holly ignored the look Graves gave her, the only one that would recognise the significance of those numbers in that particular order. She heard the familiar sound of the gates opening before the van crept forward before eventually pulling to a stop.

"Keep pressure on that wound," she directed to Williams, as he packed more bandages around Jax's wound.

Opening the van doors, she stepped out, the driver and passenger already moving round to help unload the two stretchers. The double doors at the back entrance to the building opened, Holly glanced up, meeting familiar brown eyes that widened in surprise.

"Holly?"

"I need help," she answered, ignoring the questions that burned in those brown eyes, "I have two critical."

Holly held her breath as Katie stood rooted to the spot.

"Is this some kind of fucking joke, your dead?" Katie whispered.

Holly cursed.

"In fifth year, we spent seven minutes in heaven in your dormitory, after a dare by Fred Weasley," she said, "We were both each other's first kiss with a girl."

"Holly, it's really you," Katie breathed, her eyes staring widely as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Doctor Bell," Holly barked, snapping the Healer out of her trance. Giving a firm reminder, she needed to act her part.

It worked, Katie moved at the tone of her voice, rushing forward to Jax's stretcher, moving it along with her, as two of her colleagues reached for Clint's.

"Avengers?" Katie's eyes widened in surprise, as she glanced between Clint and Stark's security and then back to her.

"There was an incident. It needs your speciality," Holly warned, as they stepped across the threshold into the building.

She was aware of the other's moving around her, aware of Graves with Clint, Williams and two other Stark Security guys moving in, but she wasn't paying that much attention.

"We have more on the way," she added.

"Get Dr Wendell here now," Katie barked towards two of the nurses, before adding, "Security can't pass the next set of doors."

Holly nodded before relaying the information back to Stark's guys. She didn't pay attention to whether they followed or not as she passed through another set of doors; a tingle ran down the length of her spine, signalling that she had stepped through a secondary set of wards.

"What happened?" Katie asked, the moment there was no chance the muggles overhearing them.

"The Avengers were dealing with something that ended up crossing paths with our world," Holly answered, nodding her head in Clint's direction, "He's been hit with a Heart Exploding Curse, not cast properly, it's done some damage, but I can't tell you how much."

"Healer Wendell will be able to work with that, his speciality is Dark Curses," Katie nodded, "Were the others exposed to anything else?"

"I can't say for certain, but more than likely. It was chaotic."

She nodded her head, "I've got it from here."

Two Healers took over wheeling the stretch in through another set of doors. Katie turned to look at her, "Don't go anywhere; you have a lot to explain. And don't think for one minute I've not noticed your injuries."

"Yeah, sure," Holly agreed, though if she was going, to be honest, she was going to avoid that particular conversation if she could help it. "Is there enough staff to deal with minor injuries?"

Katie shook her head, "We have two nurses, they're Squibs, so they know what is going on here. They have just finished Medical School and wanted to give back to the Foundation. I'm going to need all the magic users with Healer Wendell and me. Are you well enough to cover it?"

"I can manage," Holly said, "Is there anybody in the main house?"

"We just have two kids, one muggle-born we found that isn't quite eleven yet. We are trying to get him set up with a family until he starts Ilverymorny in September, and the other...well she fits in more with the Avengers. Tracey is with them."

"Enhanced?"

Katie nodded before glancing back through the doors, both Clint and Jax had disappeared behind, "I need to go."

Holly stepped back as the door closed in her face. She had done everything she could to help Clint ad Jax, and now all she could do is wait. Wait and pray. She wasn't good at waiting. Wasn't good at sitting by ideally. There would be others entering the Clinic that would be injured, and as exhausted as she was, it was better to keep herself busy. Better to keep moving. Holly had too much to do; she couldn't afford to give in to the pain that was creeping into her awareness with a sickening wave of nausea. No, she needed to keep moving. Turning on her heel, Holly stepped back out into the central area of the Clinic, swiping a pair of medical gloves as she went. Chaos greeted her the moment she stepped through the doors. The second van of injured had arrived, and the two nurses were already rushing about trying to direct them to the beds. What beds they had would soon be full of wounded agents and detectives.

Blood was on the air. Sound muffled and distorted like she was in water doing her damn hardest to move forward and unable to while the world sped past her. The doors slammed open, and everything seemed to catch up with her, or she caught up with reality. Holly did another sweep of the room, while both Clint and Jax were critical, others were still bleeding, still in pain and she had only one pair of hands.

"Any of you have first aid training?"

"I do."

Holly slowed, snapping her attention to the man who responded.

Williams.

Holly hadn't exactly forgotten about him, more put him to one side while she had focused on Clint and Jax.

"You alright there, Potter?" Blue eyes watching her too closely.

No, she wasn't, but she wasn't about to admit it to him, not when she was as vulnerable as she currently was running on empty fumes and Williams had a strange taste of magic to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered softly, "Treat those you can and help the nurses with whatever they need when you can't."

He nodded, slowly, his eyes never leaving her.

Maybe coming here was a mistake with him. Except Holly hadn't had a choice, and yet she couldn't ignore the gut-wrenching feeling she was getting. Yep, she was definitely going to have to keep an eye on the man, but right now wasn't the time. Not when so many people needed attention. Holly moved to the nearest bed, she really hoped this was the extent of the injured.


XXX


It was one of Stark's security guys that let them into the underground parking of the building Jarvis had directed them to. Bucky wasn't entirely sure what he had expected when Steve had said Holly had taken them to a Foundation Clinic, but the outer shell of the building made you think rundown and disused.

Inside was a whole different story.

Passing a waiting room that looked like it belonged in an actual hospital; they walked through a set of double doors, to the main area, which Bucky could only think of as a small ER. Chaos overwhelmed his senses as the world blurred around him. Every bed was full, two nurses were scurrying around from bed to bed, and where they weren't, Holly, Graves and two of Stark guys were offering what aid they could. Sam moved without a word, swiping a pair of medical gloves as he passed to offer assistance. His former career giving him medical experience. Bucky made a beeline towards Holly, aware that the others were trying their hardest not to get in the way, an exhausted Banner slumping down on the nearest chair, blanket wrapped around him tightly.

"Can you hold his other arm?" she asked, not even looking towards him, "X-ray has confirmed he has a dislocated shoulder, but thankfully no broken bones. I need to put it back into place. And I really want to avoid getting hit."

"You have put a shoulder back into place before, right?" the detective asked.

Holly flashed him a reassuring smile, "Yes, I have. I know how to do it without causing any further injury, and I have given you something to relax, so just let that work okay. I promise you, you will be fine."

The detective's eyes darted between the two of them, uncertainty shining through, though Bucky couldn't help but notice they lingered on him longer than Holly and it wasn't just uncertainty he saw then, it was fear. He knew he deserved it. Knew he should become accustomed to it because that was all the world would ever be when they saw him.

Afraid.

A nudge registered through the bonds much like a curious puppy nuzzling a new person. He met Holly's gaze across the bed. A reminder she wasn't afraid of him, at least not in the way the rest of the world was. She was wary for different reasons, the bonds, the marks on their skin, but not because of who he was. Bucky wasn't sure if that was a mistake on her part or not, but he couldn't help but find comfort in that fact even as it terrified him.

"So are you going to tell me your name, because I have to say calling you Detective Reid is a little impersonal?"

"Jason," he winced, "Jason."

Holly smiled, "Okay, Jason, tell me about yourself, why did you want to become a Detective?"

"Runs in the family. My father was one, and so were both my uncles and my grandfather. I followed the family path, along with five of my cousins."

"Big family?"

"Too big at times. Everyone is in everyone's business, no secrets, you know?" Reid was breathing heavily, pain twisting across his face.

"I was an only child, though I lived with my Aunt and Uncle and cousin from when I was fifteen months. Can't say we were close growing up," she answered, "So it was something you always wanted to do?"

"I couldn't imagine doing anything different."

Bucky listened as Holly talked with the Reid, distracting him enough that he was starting to relax, forgetting about the fact that she was about to pop his shoulder back into its socket. He couldn't help but notice how much she didn't say in her answers, how she gave just enough about herself to form a connection, but never went in too much detail. He argued that it was the fact Detective Reid would never really know her and that she didn't owe him personal details of her life, but it made Bucky reassess over their own conversations, what exactly she gave freely and what she didn't say. Her parent's murder, she only touched lightly on, not that he could blame her. Then the mention of her cousin, of her family, she had mentioned them once before. Bucky knew from her background check their names, but Holly had never used their names. The created game 'Holly Hunting' added the understanding that they weren't close growing up. Adding up the signs, and what she wasn't saying it was clear to him that Holly had been abused, and while some of her scars weren't years old, others were.

Others that she could only have gotten as a child. A growl rippled through him from the Soldier, his whole body tensed and Holly shot him a concerned look, a frown on her brow before she turned her attention back to Reid. Letting the Soldier out in any capacity, regardless of the necessity, left him vulnerable for the Soldier to take over again, and it was becoming clear to him that the Soldier felt protective over Holly, and that he would fight to the surface to do just that. Something unusual in itself since the Soldier was only ever a weapon and weapons didn't have feelings or urges. Tonight he had let the Soldier take control, and he had faced Hydra. A deadly combination. His whole body was supercharged, ready and waiting, his pulse racing that little faster, his emotions in turmoil and his thoughts churning.

He was like an exposed nerve, raw and bleeding. His control was teetering on edge, and it wouldn't take much for him to slip and lose himself in the void deep inside his core, that was always there just waiting for him to fall so it could swallow him whole. The abyss he couldn't get rid of, or cleanse himself off. Instead, it just waited, taunting him with flashes of images of things he couldn't fully remember but knew in his soul he was responsible for. What he could remember plagued him, but what he couldn't remember tortured him. Bucky knew there was so much in his time with Hydra that he wasn't remembering. Missions, targets, victims.

How much pain had he caused?

Bones groaned, a cry pierced his thoughts. He reacted. His instincts, fuelled by the Solider that was still dangerously close to the surface, pushing him forward.

His left arm snapped to attention, reached for Reid's arm as the man moved towards Holly, his own instincts making him react to the pain. The familiar sound of each plate moving to his direction. His eyes widened in surprise, as everything froze. He stared at the wrist in his metal hand.

Not Reid's.

Holly's. Holly had intercepted him. She was looking at him. Her eyes open and patient, trust glistening in their depths. She trusted him not to hurt her.

There was no fear.

Just trust, patience.

He could see that. He could feel it through the bonds. The soft ripples of warmth hummed through him, calm, soothing away the tension. It reminded him of a calm lake at night, mirroring the glittering stars above, the only movement disturbing it from the faint wind that brushed against its surface. Just as he was aware that Steve was by his side, his own bond pulsing through him, a tight tension waiting to act if needed.

"Buck," Steve started, pausing as Holly's eyes darted his way before finding his own again.

"Thank you for your help, Bucky," she said softly, there was no heat in her voice; no accusations hurled his way, just calm steadiness.

Grounding him in a way he hadn't expected.

He let go over her hand. She didn't react, just turned her attention back to Reid as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn't almost snapped her arm in two. Reid, who blinded by his pain, hadn't realised how close he had come to have his arm broken.

"Your shoulder is back in place; do you want to take the painkillers now?"

Bucky took a step back, Steve mirrored him. He could still keep Holly in his line of sight, but not close enough to cause harm. Fuck, he couldn't afford to lose control. Yet, he couldn't shake the urge that was coursing through him.

Protect. Protect. Protect.

She had put herself on Hydra's radar tonight, not just by being on the opposite side to them, but because she had clearly been able to wield Thor's hammer. Something no one else seemed to be able to do, that he was aware of.

"Buck."

"I'm fine," he lied through gritted teeth.

He wasn't, he knew he wasn't. He needed to breathe. A war was currently ripping through him, and he had no idea who would come out as the winner, but he knew it was taking everything he had not to fall back into the abyss, to not give in and lose himself once again as the Soldier took control. He didn't want to be that person anymore. It would put everyone in danger. Holly stepped towards him, finished with Reid, she clasped his metal hand in hers, her fingers lacing through his. He stared at her in surprise.

"Come on, everyone has been seen to, the nurses can take it from here. We are only going to be in the way while we wait for the Doctors to bring us news on Clint and Jax," she said softly.

She pulled him along, and Bucky followed, with Steve and the others following her lead. He was aware of Natasha relaying instructions to Stark's guys before Holly was pulling him through a side door that clearly indicated 'Staff Only'. It was like stepping into a completely different building, gone was the sterile environment, with the overwhelming clinical smell and bright lights, and loud noises. Instead, it was wallpapered walls, and carpeted floor of a long hallway, before different doors opened and splintered off.

Bucky took note of a large common area, a games room and what looked to be a quiet room, art room and playroom. He noticed the walls lined with child drawings, bright colours and odd shapes, some even picturing mythical monsters like dragons and mermaids. She led them to a large living room, which was right next to a kitchen, he zeroed in on the woman that was currently standing in the kitchen, behind a counter. She looked up at the sound of their approach, a glare crossing her face as she looked at Holly.

"Not dead then," the woman greeted coldly, "A great many people would be disappointed with that fact."

Bucky tensed, he could feel Steve stiffen beside him.

Holly snorted, "Still a bitch Tracey."

"Would you want me any other way?" Tracey snapped back as she stepped out from behind the kitchen counter to the middle of the room.

Bucky flickered his attention between the two of them. It was clear they knew each other, but from the stance of both women, he wasn't sure whether it was friendly or not. Until Holly smiled, let go of his hand and moved towards the woman, throwing her arms around her.

"It's good to see you, Tracey," Holly greeted.

Tracey wrapped her arms around her, whispering, "I'm glad you aren't dead Potter."

"Careful Tracey, your Slytherin facade is slipping," Holly said.

"I'm sorry to cut across what is clearly a reunion, but does somebody want to explain why people think you are dead, and what exactly is this place?" Stark asked, stepping forward.

They stepped away from each other, Holly's smile faltering ever so slightly, "Right, sorry, um everyone this is Tracey, Tracey this is -"

"The Avengers, I watch TV now."

"Taking a step in the right direction," Holly sniped back.

Bucky frowned; it was clear he was missing something, and from the confused glance Steve threw him he wasn't the only one. Why wouldn't the woman watch TV, when it was clear to him that everyone seemed to do it in this day and age?

Tracey threw Stark a glare, unfazed by the look the man was giving her before answering, "To answer your question Stark, because as far as we were aware, Holly was dead. Has been dead for the last three years, clearly," Tracey paused, turning her glare towards Holly, "That is not the case. And for another, welcome to Sanctuary."

Bucky glanced at Holly who despite the revelation remained emotionless, fixing Tracey with her own look, before turning her attention to them.

"It's a long story."

"Oh, we are all ears," Stark demanded, "And while we are at it, you can also explain about being the Founder of the Foundation."


XXX


Holly turned to meet Stark's gaze with her own refusing to give an inch under the weight of his gaze. It wasn't an accusation, but there was a demand in his tone. A need for answers. Searching for answers was wired into Tony Stark's very being, regardless of whether those answers could get him killed, his desire to know and understand the world pushed him past barriers that would usually make other people hesitate. Her mind whirled and raced. She was prepared to give some answers, though would carefully be avoiding the magical world, no matter how easy it would be to reveal the truth about the magical world she couldn't do it. It wasn't her secret to expose; it wasn't her place to put countless lives in danger.

Holly would need to go down the proper channels. She had prepared for a lot of in her hunt for Hydra and the children, but bringing in the Avengers into the fold on knowing the Wizarding World had never been one of them. Working with the Avengers had only been for recon purposes. In and out. Nothing more. But everything had gotten complicated, and that wasn't even taking into account her connection to Steve and Bucky. Tonight had complicated things even further. It had proven that the situation was the worst possible scenario. Whichever way you looked at it, it went far further than merely kidnapping muggle-born children, more than the experiments she had witnessed, endured, and gathered information on.

They had built themselves an army. A loyal army, more than prepared to use magic against others regardless of the consequences, perhaps not even aware of them. Holly had made her plans. Had preparations in place for all possible scenarios. Having worked hard with Hermione and Ron and the others that were in the know to prepare for the worst possible scenario that she could unearth when she started her hunt for Hydra, she needed to activate those preparations soon, before anything else happened.

Hydra and the wizards and witches with them had declared war. On both the Wizarding World and the Muggle one, whether they realised it or not. She needed to tread carefully, moving forward, but she also needed to act quickly. The Greater Good rang through her head like a bell; she needed to get a handle on that particular revelation before it inspired panic. Holly understood they would have questions once she brought them here, she couldn't answer them all. Not yet, maybe not ever. She may hate the red tape that surrounded the Wizarding World at times, hated their inability to see how beautiful muggles could be, but that didn't mean she would risk destroying it either.

She took a moment to gather herself.

"Holly," Steve said softly, pulling her out of her thoughts, she looked up at him, concern swirling in his eyes. A glance at Bucky showed an equal amount of concern.

"While I may work for you, I don't actually owe you an explanation. People may have believed I was dead, but that is the problem with assumptions, and half-truths and the media twisting words. People draw their own conclusions, and suddenly two plus two equals five," she said firmly, iron lacing her words. She wasn't a pushover, and nobody demanded things from her. Not anymore. "I haven't broken the law. I was never declared dead in the official channels."

"Nobody is accusing you of anything, Holly," Steve soothed, throwing Stark a warning look.

"Tracey," she said softly, turning her attention to the blonde-haired witch.

"I'm going to check on the kids, Katie tell you how many we have?"

She nodded.

"Holly," she hesitated, throwing her a fearful look as if she understood at that moment that there was far more to the story than she could guess, "Is it going to be worse than Riddle?"

She didn't answer, and perhaps that was an answer in itself, one that Tracey seemed to recognise, before giving her own single nod and exiting the room.

Right, start with the Foundation.

"My family hated me," she said, her voice void of emotion, having long since accepted the fact and that she would never be able to change it, "Hated with the sense that I should have been drowned at birth, or blown up with my parents."

"Hols."

Bucky took a step towards her, but Holly took a step back, keeping the distance between them. She didn't need comfort, she had once, but now, now the wound that her family had caused was no longer raw but an ugly scar.

"For the first ten years of my life, I didn't know anything about my parents. Just that my dad was a drunken deadbeat and my mother a worthless whore, a path I would no doubt follow," she licked her lips, staring into space, "My bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs, and the only time I was allowed out was to complete chores or attend school. I was punished by being locked in that cupboard with no food for weeks at a time."

The silence was deafening in the room, the tension thick and heavy. Each of them shifting, she could see the widening of Stark's eyes in horror, guilt crossing his face. The green tinge in Bruce's eyes, the unreadable look that hid more things than she could ever guess on Natasha's. Sam, a mixture of understanding and concern as if everything was starting to make sense. The bonds from both Bucky and Steve vibrated violently, anger pouring forth like lava, burning everything in its path. Holly didn't look at either of them, she couldn't, she just strengthened her shields ensuring nothing of her own leaked through to them. The ice blanket doing everything it could to dampen their heat. This was old news, no longer something she let bother her. She wasn't the child any more than needed rescuing. She had saved her-fucking-self. But just because it was old news didn't mean she liked rehashing it, but how she had been treated, and others she had met along the way had shaped the idea that would one day become the Foundation.

She continued, better to get it over and done with, rip the plaster off in one go, "I ran away when I was ten, managed to make my way to London, not something I recommend for a ten-year-old. The streets are harsh enough for adults, but I made some of my first friends; eventually, and I realised that the world was more broken than I realised. I was convinced for so long that there was something wrong with me, something about me needed to be fixed. But on the streets, I realised it wasn't. I was found and dragged back to my Aunt and Uncle three months later."

At the time she had thought it was the police, but the reality of it was that it had been Aurors, it was the first time she had met Kingsley, she remembered him wrapping her up in his cloak to stop her from shivering and giving her a chocolate frog.

"At eleven, I found out the truth about my parents, that they were actually members of a counter-terrorist intelligence agency and had been murdered by a terrorist. I had survived the attack, I found out about my boarding school and that I had a trust fund. I won't bore you with the rest; I went to school though I still had to go back every summer until I left just before my seventeenth birthday," Holly paused, wetting her bottom lip. She could remember the weeks after the Final Battle, with a shattered soul and a battered body receiving a full brake down of everything in her name. It had brought a little bit of light, a little bit of hope to know she could set out achieving her dream despite still hunting down Riddle's followers. Despite still being knee deep in blood and death.

Taking a breath, she continued, "Once I received full access to my heritage and my inheritance from my godfather I worked towards setting up the Foundation. I wanted it to be a Sanctuary to those who needed it, regardless of why they did. It took time, but eventually, I did it. I created a place that would keep people safe from harm, kids that didn't have anyone to stand up for them, adults that need somewhere to get them off the streets or out of a bad situation. It grew and expanded from there."

"Your godfather really was an escaped convict, that was why you lived with your aunt and uncle," Steve bit though clenched teeth.

Holly looked up at him, she had forgotten that truth she had revealed but had been unable to confirm as Hydra Agents showing up had taken their attention.

"He was in the same agency as my parents, my dad's best friend. He went after the man that betrayed my parents and was set up. He spent thirteen years in prison before escaping to keep me safe from the real culprit," Holly admitted, a bitter smile crossing her lips. "He was found innocent when new evidence came to light after his murder."

"Why, Evans-Black, why not Potter?" Stark asked, awkwardness tingeing his voice that one didn't expect to find, not when he came across as confident as he did. But then Holly knew better than most to never judge a book by its cover.

"Evans was my mother's maiden name, and Black was my godfather's name. He came from a similar home environment, I figured it was fitting."

"Do you want drinks?" she asked, breaking the silence in the room, and giving her something to do other than stand there under the weight of everyone's gazes. Pain was starting to push its way forward. Holly was all too aware of her arm burning, her ribs aching and exhaustion currently twisting around her.

She would crash soon. Everything she had done to keep Clint and Jax alive and her own injuries catching up to her. She still had so much to do tonight, or early morning, whatever time it actually was, before she could let herself genuinely rest. She wondered how much longer the Healers would be. How long had it been since she had arrived? An hour, maybe two.

"Sure, I will help," Sam replied softly, moving towards the kitchen and gathering mugs from the cupboard she pointed at. They weren't stupid; they all knew it was a distraction that she was filling the awkward silence that had descended on them. She couldn't decide if they played along to humour her, or out of guilt that they were asking these questions.

Bruce settled into the large armchair, looking far worse than she was feeling, his transformation taking its toll on his body. She couldn't help but wonder if a potion would help ease the effects, make it less of a strain for him. The others settled down within the room, she could see the tension in them, the weariness crossing their faces and the concern for their fallen comrade, and a wave of underlying anger vibrating through both Steve and Bucky. Sam helped her with the drinks, throwing her side looks, but not actually saying anything.

"So what exactly is this place, Sanctuary?" Steve asked, frowning slightly. He was hiding his anger very carefully, ensuring nothing slipped to the surface their fingers brushing as she passed him his drink

"Foundation Safe House," Holly answered, "We added the Clinic to help those that needed it but couldn't afford the health insurance or going to a hospital."

"And the kids?"

"Depends on the circumstances, runaways, orphans with no living family, others somehow connected or involved in criminal activity such as drug running," Holly answered, taking a sip of her tea, she had laced it with pain relief potion. "You will be surprised at what some sick-minded individuals are willing to do with kids."

"Nobody looks twice at a kid," Natasha said coldly.

Holly glanced at the woman her face blank before replying, "You don't usually expect children as young as seven or eight to have drugs on them. Some people notice them, people that ask questions, and people that try to help. The Foundation is one of those places, I don't have a problem cutting through red tape when it suits my purpose, which doesn't exactly make the Foundation that popular with the authorities, but it helps."

"And the dead for three years part?" Stark asked, his curiosity piquing once again.

"You are relentless, do you know that?" Holly jested, in an attempt to break the tension. It didn't work.

"You aren't the first person to say that," he said drily, "I'm not sure how much of a compliment it is though."

Holly took another sip of her tea, leaned back against the counter, letting it support her just a little. She didn't want to sit down, she wasn't sure she would get back up.

"Four years ago, the Foundation became aware that a few children we were supporting had disappeared."

"Wait, isn't this why you left the Foundation, your records and reference, hell the report even states that it was only a year ago," Stark pointed out.

"Tony," Steve hissed.

"It wasn't. It was four years ago, and I investigated for three months before I led a team to their location," Holly answered, "The report was correct in the fact that my team was ambushed, even if the dates were wrong. But then, nobody filed an official report."

She paused, old memories stirred, things she would rather forget about. She took a breath.

"We were ambushed, and my team was killed. I survived, though at the time I wished I hadn't," Holly admitted, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath.

"Hols," Bucky said softly, understanding lacing his tone, "How long?"

She wasn't surprised he understood her implication first, not if he experienced it firsthand.

"Ten months. I was their prisoner for ten months," she replied, opening her eyes, focusing on the wall in front of her. If she could continue on with a clinical note, detached, then she didn't have to relive it again.

"I eventually escaped," she continued, though in truth her escape was down to several things and none of them had involved any great skill.

Pain. Coldness. Darkness followed by fire, screams, a hunger she hadn't been able to contain and death. She pushed the thoughts away, swallowed the lump forming in the back of her throat and pressed on.

"I found my way home, to the right people, and after my injuries were treated, I realised I had been presented with an opportunity I couldn't pass. I was MIA initially and eventually as time wore on and far as anybody else was concerned presumed dead. Staying that way simply meant I would be able to move unseen and find those responsible and put a stop to them. Can't exactly defend yourself against an enemy if you think you have killed them."

"You thought it was an inside job," Natasha said softly, admiration shining in her eyes, "It's what I would do. Lull them into a false sense of security."

Holly couldn't fault her logic; she had been concerned it was an inside job, not from somebody in the Foundation, but rather in the Wizarding World in general. She had learnt early on precisely who was responsible in the muggle world.

"It wasn't just an inside job I was concerned about," Holly said, "I was moved around a lot in the facility I was kept, mostly under sedation, but I was conscious enough most of the time. I remember one particular room, clear as mud, grey walls, black emblem on the walls. One that was unforgettable and unmistakable."

"Hydra," Steve whispered.

Holly shook her head, she knew it had been Hydra at the time, but it wasn't their symbol that had painted that wall, and it wasn't their symbol that had stayed in her mind.

"SHIELD."

The silence followed was deafening.

"Son of a bitch!" Steve cursed.

"Though you were right in your first instance also, it was Hydra, an organisation that the history books claimed was defeated in 1945, at the heart of an extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency. Letting the world believe I was dead was the safest solution."

"You knew before Hydra revealed itself," Steve said, realisation crossing his face.

"I did," Holly confirmed, meeting his gaze with her own, "but who would have believed me."

"How did you escape, they wouldn't have risked that information from getting out?"

"They made a mistake not double checking I was actually dead when they thought I was."

"And in the last three years?" Stark asked.

"Tracking Hydra. Working out how they were connected to SHIELD, learning as much as I could about their plans, finding out the fact it was more than just a few missing children and that it had been going on far longer than I first realised."

"You tried to stop Hydra on your own," Bucky stated, his eyes fixing her with an unreadable look.

"It wouldn't be the first time I have faced impossible odds," she said softly, looking down at her cup, "It was only after Hydra revealed to the world that they were in fact still around, the fact that they were trying to take over the world that I realised that I wouldn't be able to do it alone."

"And so you came to work with us," Steve confirmed.

"Yeah," she admitted with a nod, taking a sip of her drink.

"Why exactly didn't you say anything, to begin with?" Stark pointed out, a hint of accusation lacing his words.

Holly couldn't say whether he intended to or not, but she could hear it never the less.

"You found out my name and that I was the soulmate to both Captain America and the Winter Soldier and you slapped a contract my way. A tight iron one, would you have believed me if I spoke out then?" she asked with a bitter smile and cocked eyebrow. "You looked at me as if I was a villain from the get-go just for existing, what exactly would have made the difference if you found out I had been kept prisoner by Hydra for ten months. Would you have believed me?"

Anger simmered beneath her skin, as old memories stirred. A reminder that when she had spoken the truth before and hadn't been believed. The Wizarding World had called her a liar, declared her mad and unstable. Holly hadn't had any intention of being anything more than an employee. Hadn't had any plan of sticking around once she had found her information out. She would have just been a nameless face one that disappeared in a blink of an eye.

But fate had complicated things.

"Were it not for the soulmarks, none of you would have looked twice in my direction," she said coldly.

It shouldn't hurt, she shouldn't care, not in the slightest. She had learned that lesson long ago the majority of people only tried to get to know her because of something she was, or did and not for whom she really was. Why would now be any different?

That is unfair, and Holly knew that as well, how the Wizarding World treated her was not Bucky or Steve's fault. They didn't owe her anything, and she didn't owe them anything, something she had said to them. The three of them were one awkward broken tangle, and they didn't know what to do with each other. Except they were trying to make an effort in getting to know her, and as much as she was trying to keep them at arm's length, she was finding herself responding in kind. Except the voice in the back of her mind, a voice that she couldn't get rid of no matter how hard she tried whispered in her ear that they were only looking her way because of the marks. Without them, they wouldn't care. Holly knew that was true and she couldn't allow herself to fall into the trap of thinking this was anything more than what it was. Yet despite the fact she knew she shouldn't care, Holly couldn't say that it didn't hurt.

"How do we know you aren't under Hydra's control?" Stark asked, "They clearly have the capability."

Holly ignored the stab of pain that twisted in her gut, at least they didn't think she was Hydra, just mind-controlled by them.

"Lady Potter wielded Mjolnir tonight, she would not have been able to have had she been under the influence of another's will with less worthy goals. She is worthy and has proven that in battle," Thor said, cutting across the room like a knife through butter.

She glanced towards him, and he nodded in silent support. He knew what she wasn't saying, what she couldn't say.

"So a magical hammer says she is worthy and we can't be concerned about mind control?" Stark argued, "I'm not saying she is Hydra, I'm just saying she could be under their control."

"Tony, enough," Steve warned.

She wasn't sure she could argue with Stark's logic, not with how genuine the possibility was, and saying she wasn't wouldn't offer any comfort. Holly dared a glance at both Steve and Bucky. Bucky was deadly silent, his face void of emotion, his eyes cold and the bonds were still hidden by a layer of ice she couldn't penetrate. Until his blue eyes met hers. Understanding shone in them. Holly swallowed slowly. Her ten months paled in comparison to his decades with Hydra, but he understood to a degree what she had experienced, even if he would never know everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, just as the door opened, everyone's attention snapping to it. An exhausted Katie stepped through, her brown eyes glancing around the room, a frown crossing her face at the visible tension.

"Is everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Yes, both surgeries were successful, both your colleagues are being taken to private rooms, you are welcome to go and see them though I would limit it to one or two visitors at a time and I must advise they are still out of it."

Natasha moved to her feet instantly.

"One of the nurses will take you through," Katie smiled.

"Thank you, Doctor," Steve said.

"No thanks are needed, healing people is my job," Katie replied, before turning her attention to Holly, "Are you going to let me treat your injuries now?"

Holly was aware of the weighted glances thrown back in her direction.

"You're injured?" Steve asked, a wince crossing his face at the failure to recognise that she was.

"I'm fine," she muttered, "The main office okay? I hate hospital rooms."

Katie blinked, "Depends on how bad that arm is?"

"Office or I'm going home now so I can pass out."

"I'd forgotten how stubborn you actually are when you put your mind to it, Holly. Fine, office it is."

Holly pushed herself away from the counter, walking across the room before pausing at the door before turning back to them in the room, "We aren't going to be able to move Clint or Jax back to the Tower tonight, I will have rooms made up for each of you. Help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen."

She followed behind Katie, up a flight of stairs to the first floor, towards the office that took up the back room. The door shutting behind them.

"You aren't going to let me heal you are you?"

"If you can do it quickly, I need to Floo back to England, I have a lot to do before everything spirals out of control."

"Damn it, Holly, what is going on?"

"I can't say, not right now. I know it's not fair, but you trusted me in the fifth year when others didn't, I need you to trust me again."

"I've always trusted you, Holly," Katie replied, "Now let me look at your arm."

It hurt, treating her arm, but Katie did quick work of numbing it enough to allow her to pull away from the melted clothing, the problem was it took a lot of her skin with it. Even with the numbing charm, it still hurt. It took everything she had not to scream. Her time with Hydra had hardened her to pain to the point blacking out was a pipe dream she had chased only for it to be denied her again and again.

"I'm against you travelling through the Floo, for the record, you look dead on your feet, and you need to rest."

"Noted," Holly muttered as she charmed the remains of her top into a light t-shirt that wouldn't rest on her arm.

"But you are still going to go."

"You know me, I walk off death," she smiled.

Katie threw her a pointed look, before responding. "I want to check on that arm when you get back. It's five hours before dawn, I don't know how early our guests are going to be up, but I suggest you use your time well before they start asking questions."

"They don't know about magic," Holly warned.

"I will handle it. I will see you in a few hours."

Holly nodded her head before moving towards the Fireplace. A wave of her wand, flames flared to life, grabbing a handful of floor powder she stepped into the fire.

"Rosewood Cottage," she said clearly, dropping the powder at her feet.

A whoosh of green flames engulfed her, before snapping her away from Sanctuary.


XXX


Despite my best attempts of ignoring the urge to follow an idea for a new story, outside of one-shots, I have started working on another story. It will be Harry Potter/Avengers crossover as well, and I am only a few chapters in but it's not disappearing from my mind. It will be some time before I start posting for it, as I do want to focus on Red Threads of Fate but it's also demanding to be written so I am going to listen to my muse and see what happens.


I have had Tumblr for a while, and started posting on there in connection to this story when I first started, I stopped posting mostly because I forgot about it but have recently started to use it more for this story, sneak peeks, snippets, things I find amusing and any news that maybe important so please feel free to come and say hi and ask questions.

My name is below (without the spaces):-

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