The energy didn't diminish with sleep. The night passed and Harry prepared to leave for the grocers but the disconcerting power whose tang of death lingered at the back of his throat remained writhing just beneath his skin. He wanted some way to shake it off, so he left for his work earlier than usual, eager to see if the hours of physical labor might do the trick. But the doors were locked and the windows dark and it took nearly five minutes of steady knocking before he received an answer.
Mr. Aronoff met him at the back door, in the same clothing Harry had left him in the previous afternoon and with a rim of red encircling each eye. He'd been mourning, it didn't take much to guess what, only who.
It was the youngest, Jerome; he'd been gone for nearly two weeks but the telegram had only just arrived the evening before. The store would be closed for a week, maybe more, while they tried to recover from the loss. Despite his protests Mr. Aronoff forced a handful of bills at Harry, two weeks' worth of pay, before shuffling back into his home.
Harry lingered on the doorstep, dumbstruck and uncertain and already feeling secondhand grief for a couple too kind to deserve such an injustice. Eventually he moved on, there was a park nearby, empty due to the early hours and biting temperatures, where he sat himself on a bench as far from the street as he could manage.
It was easy to lose himself in his own mind in moments like that, there was plenty to lose himself in these days. But one thought in particular remained at the forefront, morbid but unshakeable, of the youngest Aronoff's last moments.
He knew very little of the man, he'd never actually met him as he'd been deployed before Harry had taken up with the Aronoffs, but his parents spoke of him and his brothers extensively and with a devoted pride and overwhelming love that made the revelation of his death so bitter even to the stranger that Harry was.
Harry hoped that, at least, the man had died quickly, his own death had been quick, painless, but had Jerome suffered? Did he realize he'd been shot? Or had he not understood what the intense pressure just below his sternum was? Why he was suddenly choking so violently on this dirty air?
He didn't.
Was he confused as to why his legs no longer supported him as he ran toward enemy fire? Why the ground beneath him was inexplicably slick and warm?
He was.
What was he thinking as spots began to crowd the border of his vision? Of his mother? His father? His two brothers lost somewhere in this hell?
It was of the sand he was staining red and how he wished he could stand at the edge of his home state with the salt on his tongue and the ocean stretched wide at his feet one last time.
Harry flinched, recoiled hard enough that the bench, weakened by age creaked in warning beneath him.
He was still in the park, he was still in New York, but for a moment he'd been there too, dying from a bullet to the gut on a beach somewhere in Europe. And his skin was still quivering with the energy that he knew must belong to Death.
The need to speak to the being was immense, but he didn't have the ingredients, the flowers and the branches to summon him. They might be found in an apothecary but he had no means of purchasing any of it, the meager amount of muggle money on him would do no good for him there, not to mention he had no idea where he might go to find an apothecary.
But he needed to talk to Death. The last thing he could afford was another Hallow induced breakdown while stranded in this time. His desperation must have transcended planes of reality as, between one blink and the next, Death was there.
"What," he said unhappily, "do you want?"
Harry silently congratulated himself on managing to quell his second instinctual flinch of the day. "What…how did you know I wanted to see you?"
"You were screaming."
"I wasn't…."
"The power behind the thoughts and emotions you were hurling my way was akin to screaming. It was very difficult to ignore. What do you want?"
Wasn't that a handy piece of knowledge? Perhaps he should have listened to Death's mocking reprimands for using 'sticks and flowers' to summon him months ago. He might have saved himself a fair bit of stress.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying and only somewhat succeeding at seeming contrite. "I didn't mean to…yell, but it's happening again. I think I'm losing control."
"Of?"
"These abilities. It's not voices again, more like a vision or an out of body experience, maybe. I was dying. I was someone else who was dying."
"You're not losing control, quark." Death twisted his mouth in a mocking smile and gestured somewhere over his shoulder. "You're being stalked."
One hand fell to the wand at his hip while the rest of Harry's body whipped violently in his seat, craning desperately to see who Death was speaking of. But there was no one. "Where? I can't see them."
"Of course you can't, you're weak and your refusal to embrace who you've become is making you weaker. You're being stalked not by one of the living, but by a spirit, a shade. You must have encountered him at some point in your day and he was drawn to what you are."
"Excuse me?"
"He died violently, his parting from this world was not an easy or peaceful one, and, in the process, he left a piece of himself behind. Who knows how long he's been trapped here, but it's likely when he felt the power you're attempting to suppress he latched onto you in hopes that you might find him some peace." Death held out a hand and for a moment Harry could see the ghostly outline of a man, a soldier reaching for the proffered limb. "He will be returned to his whole and passed on peacefully."
"That was Jerome." Harry spoke quietly, awe struck but confused. "He died continents away."
"But he lived here, no? Shades rarely linger where they passed, they prefer to lurk where they once held the strongest ties."
"Home. But he's been dead for weeks and I've been there nearly every day, why did he only just now begin following me?"
Death shrugged, not cluelessly but carelessly. "Something within you has changed, expanded."
Harry frowned but nodded. "I've been feeling strange, powerful. I watched a little girl die and I've felt it ever since."
"That is to be expected. Our very existence revolves around dying, our power is rooted in it, it is only natural that being in proximity to it invigorates us. The effects will not be so severe though once you have inherited the full scope of what we can do."
"So this….itching beneath my skin, it'll pass? Just like everything else did?"
He received a sharp nod in answer. "One day it will no longer come in bursts of uncontrolled power, it will simply be who you are."
To most that might have come as a comfort, the promise of one day no longer having to wrestle with abilities beyond his control. But the truth of it was actually more daunting than anything to Harry.
"What's it like?"
Death didn't have an answer, all he could do was raise a brow in question.
"Being Death. The power you say you have, that I'll have one day, it seems…vast, limitless almost. You can travel time, cross space as if it's nothing. Are there no drawbacks to being what you are?"
For perhaps the first time since meeting him, Harry was able to witness Death's usual façade of condescending arrogance replaced by something that could almost be consideration.
"There are many drawbacks, too many to name, but even then the perks of the job far outweigh any imperfection. I would much rather be what we are now, than what you once were."
"You've always been this way? You were born death?"
Death shook his head. "I was not born. I've existed always."
"Then how do you know that what you are is better than what I had? Because I want it back, I don't want an endless future stretched before me. The thought of eternity…it's terrifying.
Gone was the consideration, replaced now by pity.
"It seems so, yes," Death agreed. "Because, despite what you will grow to one day be, you are still shackled by the mindset of a mortal, it will take much to break you free of it. But when you are, the thought will not seem so terrifying anymore."
Harry shook his head, unable, unwilling to believe. "I can hardly imagine a time where that would be true."
Especially because accepting what he was, throwing off the fear of both death and eternity every human seemed to cling to, would mean he'd failed to find a way back in order to stop the union of the Hallows and that would mean the wizarding world had met their end.
And that simply wasn't an option.
Death left and Harry remained only long enough to regain his bearings. The past few days had been heavy with death and grief, all he wanted now was easy company, someone with whom he could unwind and relax. So he went back to Ives.
It was early morning still, not yet even noon, and he was still home, there to answer the door after only a handful of knocks.
"Harry?" Unpainted brows rose, surprised but not unhappy.
"I'm sorry, I know it's early but my employers closed the store for the day and I thought I might come and see you."
"Well, I won't say it's not unexpected, but it's not unwelcome either." Ives stepped away from where he was blocking the door. "Come in." A firm hand tugged him past the threshold before shutting the door behind them. "Have you eaten?"
Harry nodded, the last slice of a loaf of soda bread Mrs. Aronoff had gifted him a few days earlier had acted as his breakfast.
"Well, you can stand to eat a bit more. I was fixing to cook anyway." Once sure he was seated and comfortable, Ives set to work in the kitchen, grabbing a pot from one of the cupboards before filling it with water and placing it on the stovetop.
"Thank you." Long gone were the days where Harry'd pass up any sort of kindness, he'd take every bit he could get his hands on. "You look good, by the way." His fingers tapped his cheek. "No bruises."
Ives laughed. "Can't credit no kind of quick healing on my part. I've got bruises and they're nasty, but powder's good for covering it up."
"I can't see it." Harry squinted, trying to find some indication that Ives' flawless complexion was the product of makeup. "But then again, I don't know much about it and what to look for."
"With some dames it won't take much looking, if they're no good at putting on face you'll see it. But if you can match your colors and blend it all right, that ain't an issue."
"You do it well."
A slick smile spread across Ives' face and he laughed. "Thanks, doll. I wasn't always so good at it though. It took some time before I got the sultry look I was going for instead of the whole Bozo get up."
"You've been doing this for a while then? Why?"
"Why?" Ives repeated, confused.
"Why'd you start? Why'd you keep doing it?"
And there was that smile again, back in full force. "What's got you so curious? Thinking about joining our ranks? Need someone to show you the ropes?"
That startled a laugh from Harry. He couldn't ever imagine he'd be able to pull of taking on the persona of a woman, he was sure he was very poorly suited for that sort of act. "No, I just like understanding people."
"Shame. I started because of a feeling and I kept at it because I liked it, I liked that it felt right. That I wasn't trying to hide or pretend anymore. I'm different, strange, I know it's true, I'm a man but sometimes I enjoy putting on dresses and painting my lids blue and my lips red and feeling beautiful."
"I like that." Harry nodded resolutely. "I like different."
"What kind of different?"
"Any kind. No different is the same. That'd sort of defeat its purpose."
"Are you? Different? My kind. Tell it to me straight."
"I don't think so. But then I've never tried it, never thought I wanted to."
"Thinking 'bout it doesn't give you the jitters though?"
Harry shook his head. "Where I'm from, a man laying with a man, or a woman with woman, or even either dressing as the other, there's prejudice, disdain, but it's not criminal, it's not taboo. It's done and people accept it."
"Where you're from sounds like somewhere I'd like to be."
"No, that's one of the only good things about that place. There's plenty of bad there, maybe just as much as here."
Ives' didn't look entirely convinced, but he was good enough not to press the issue. "Is that why you left?"
Harry shrugged this time, loosely and trying his best not to consider the question too closely. He'd come for easy company and conversation after all. "It's something I'd hoped to change, but not exactly why I left. I intend to go back, soon. But what about what you do? It's obviously not widely accepted here but you don't seem to make much effort in hiding it. Does dressing as a woman at night affect your life during the day?"
"Not as much as you might think." Ives graciously accepted the new topic with no comment. "Most of the boys I hang out with are fairies same as me, or tolerant of them at the least. And the people I work for don't care what I am as long as I keep doing good work for them and don't bring it into their business. Worst I got to look out for are the drunk assholes I run into at night looking to bring our beef to the daylight."
"Does that happen often?"
"Not much, no. I'm good at acting normal, so the fellas who recognize me aren't always sure and they don't want to look cockeyed slinging facts they ain't sure about."
Harry murmured in thanks when he was handed a bowl of lightly sweetened oats and milk. "I don't mean to take up your time asking all of these personal questions. If you need to prepare for work you can kick me out, my feelings won't be hurt."
"Don't worry about it. You're good company, kid."
How long had it been since he'd heard something like that? That someone wanted to be with him just because. Too long, for sure.
"You don't mind the questions?"
Ives smiled and shook his head. "It's different, talking about this during the day with someone who isn't like me and doesn't look at me like I'm less because of it."
"Good. One more question then."
"Just one?"
"Just one. Was it hard, accepting that you were different?"
"Yes. Near impossible. But when I did it, when I stopped being afraid, my world changed. Questions I didn't know I was asking finally made sense, a weight I didn't even know I was carrying dissolved, and the miserable days I thought were normal weren't anymore. It was terrifying, I spent so much time disgusted with myself, it took me a long time to grow past it. But I think if I hadn't, I wouldn't be here, because that, more than the beatings I catch for being seen with red lips and a cock in my mouth, was killing me. Slow but sure."
When Harry left the apartment some several hours later, Ives' unflinching acceptance of himself and all of his dangerous differences stuck with him more than the rest of the conversation that followed. Because while they were two wildly different sort of differents, what he'd said was still unnervingly applicable to Harry's own situation.
He didn't like what he was becoming, this creature that could one day be likened to Death, he wanted to ignore it, push it to the side until the day in which he could be rid of it for good. But until then, suppressing what was not so easily suppressed would more than likely wind up doing far more harm than good. If he could make like the way of Ives and make some sort of effort to acknowledge this terrifying part of him, at least until he could see it gone, maybe he'd spend less time petrified of all that it could do and more time using it to his own advantage. Because there was no way home, at least no way that could be found in this time and this library. He'd looked everywhere, he was doing the best research he could but it was becoming increasingly obvious that wizards had no way to move forward sixty years in the future.
But he wasn't just a wizard anymore, and the sort of being that he was could move through the stream of time. Death had said it himself on that first day in this time, he needed only power he did not yet have access to to see it done. But he knew a way in which he could, potentially, take the little power the Hallows had granted him thus far, and make them great. Great enough to see him home.
Erskine was late showing up, not late enough to cause worry but just enough where Harry, who was already one edge with a strange mix of trepidation and excitement, began to grow just a bit restless. He forced himself to hold off, however, when the doctor finally did arrive, allowing time for warm greetings and the exchange of an apple for a sandwich before bringing up the topic that chased all other thought from his mind.
"I wanted to ask you about what we spoke of yesterday in the car. If you don't mind."
Erskine nodded, unperturbed and unsuspicious as he unwrapped his sandwich. "Of course, what is it?"
"The serum," Harry made it a point to keep his voice low in order to prevent the few around them from eavesdropping, "how does it work exactly?"
Erskine remained unbothered despite the sensitive topic of the conversation. "Have you changed your mind then?"
"Not exactly….But maybe. I'm not sure."
"All right, well the serum is very simple in concept. It was created with the purpose of enhancing everything about a man to the peak of human standards, past the peak, actually. It amplifies all, both in mind and body."
"And you want to use it to make soldiers? To fight the war?"
"Just a few of these men could change the tide in our favor. I'm not looking for an entire army of these enhanced men, only a team, a small one of highly trained soldiers able to do what full battalions can't and end this war before more lives are needlessly lost."
"How many men have received it so far?"
"Only one."
"And it succeeded?"
Erskine shifted on the step he was seated on. "It succeeded in what it was created to do. But the timing was wrong and the subject was wrong."
"What about it was wrong? What happened?"
"It is as I said before, the serum is meant to amplify all, the bad and the good. It is unfortunate that our first subject had far too much bad within him. He was an angry, spiteful man, full of greed before the serum, after he was worse, monstrous. Physically, he was near perfect, but his mind was chaos, the serum didn't know when to stop and his emotion grew to be too much. Even in a man full of good this would lead only to insanity, too much of even a good thing can end very poorly."
"But you've fixed it? It's stable now?"
Erskine shook his head. "Not at the moment. We've been working to find that bit of balance we need to make it perfect, but it's….elusive."
"Can I help?"
"Help?"
Harry wasn't a scientist or a genius, he wasn't even a graduate of his class, but he didn't need to be, Erskine was all three, at least he presumed he was, and there was sure to be a potion, a ritual, a spell or something that could work to find this man what he needed, all he needed was to be pointed in the right direction.
"I said I couldn't do it because I don't want to be a soldier, I don't want to fight again and I still don't. But I think I can help and I hope in return you might help me."
Erskine didn't seem mocking or disdainful as one might when a scruffy looking barely adult offered to do what some obviously very bright minds couldn't. He was open and curious, willing to listen as long as Harry had something to say. "What did you have in mind?"
Harry couldn't speak for a moment, because this moment here was when he finally had to prove that he really meant it when he'd thought and said that he wanted to trust Erskine, because if he couldn't, he was putting everything important to him at risk. But this might be his only way home, he had to be willing to pay that price.
"I want to show you something." One hand fisted nervously in the hem of his shirt, but he still stood on steady legs and nodded to where he recognized Erskine's car to be waiting. "But we need somewhere less busy."
Unlike Harry, there was no hesitation when Erskine stood. He led the way to his car and allowed Harry to instruct the driver on where to go without an ounce of distrust.
The sleek car looked out of place in the rundown area in which Harry's alley resided, but no one stopped long enough to cause them trouble, likely frightened off by the intimidating stance of the driver who stepped out long enough to check Harry's alley.
"It's clear. Do you want me to…?"
Erskine shook his head as he climbed from the car. "There's no need to accompany us, we trust Harry. He worries insufferably." The doctor confided as he and Harry made their way to the back of the alley. "But he is a good man. A good friend. Perhaps I should go back, reassure him one last time, I wouldn't want him to make himself sick worrying."
Harry smiled and gently took Erskine's arm, preventing him from stopping and guiding him forward. "He'll be fine. That's only the wards talking."
"The what? But really, I should go and get him, I don't like the thought of him waiting in the car alone-oh…."
The doctor's worry turned to confusion the moment they stepped past the barrier of the wards, his heavy brow drew down on his eyes as he took in the addition to the alley that hadn't been there only seconds ago. "What is this? What is that?"
"Wards, to keep people stumbling upon here."
"Here?" Harry didn't flinch from the embarrassment he felt coursing hot through him when dark eyes made darker with an emotion he refused to read turned on him. "Do you live here?"
Harry nodded sharply. "I did not bring you here for pity. I brought you for privacy."
"To show me something, you said."
"Yes. But before I say anything more, I need you to make a promise." Taking the subtle tilt of the older man's head as curious interest, Harry continued on. "You can't tell anyone what I'm about to show you. I need you to swear that, so long as I'm not intentionally doing anyone harm, you will not tell a soul what you're about to see unless given express permission from me alone."
"So long as it puts no one in harm's way," Erskine agreed.
It wasn't a binding contract, Erskine could go back on his word if he wished to, but Harry had decided to trust the man and this was the first step in doing so.
"As a man of science, you might find it difficult to believe that there are forces in this world that can defy the basic laws of gravity, physics, time. There exist people able to manipulate the world and its energies with words," cautiously he drew his wand, "and a stick."
He started small, a flick of his wand summoned one of his threadbare blankets to his arms, he quickly wrapped it around himself, more for show rather than for comfort as his warming charms were still holding strong. Then he tried for something a little more difficult, conjuring two chairs from nothing. He'd only tried the spell once or twice months ago, and his chairs always wound up a bit lumpy and the fabric a bit of an eyesore, but they were comfortable and wouldn't disappear the moment they were sat in.
"What is this?" Erskine's eyes grew wide with shock as Harry continued to cast several low level charms. One to change his hair color, another to change a two day old newspaper to a raven whose wings still sported war propaganda, and one more to turn it back. All were small, innocuous charms, nothing powerful enough to tip of the MACUSA and bring them down on his head, but just enough to get his point across.
"It's magic."
For whatever reason, that didn't seem to be answer enough for Erskine, if anything, he looked even more baffled. "Magic."
"Yes. I'm a wizard." It was a little bit awful, but Harry found himself actually enjoying himself if only a little. No wonder Dumbledore spoke in riddles so often. "This is my wand."
"And the help you wish to provide…."
"Would be magical, yes."
"How?"
Harry gestured to the armchair he'd conjured, once Erskine had gingerly sat himself in one and he was comfortable in the other he explained. "We have libraries worth of spells, potions, something that could find you the balance you need."
"And in return you want what?"
"The serum. I don't want to fight or be one of your soldiers, I need it in order to get back to my family."
"The one you lost."
"I can get back to them, I'm just not powerful enough yet. Your serum can help."
"It was never intended for something like this."
"But you think it could work?"
There was only a moment in which he hesitated, mulling over the new possibilities, before he nodded. "Yes. I do. Do you really think you can help?"
There was no hesitation on Harry's part. He'd thought this over long enough. "Yes. I do."
"There are men I'd need to speak with, men you'd have to meet. But I'm willing and they will be too."
"How many?"
"We'll keep it small," Erskine assured. "Two men, one woman. Experts in their respective fields."
"I'll need oaths for them as well. I don't know them or trust them like I do you, so they'll have to be a bit more binding."
"How long will that take?"
Harry shrugged. "Not long once I find the right ones."
"Tomorrow then? Morning?" Once he received a nod from Harry, Erskine rose from his seat so that he could move close enough to clap him on the shoulder. "Tomorrow then. I'll head back now, speak with a few people about getting you the proper clearance to enter."
"Sounds a bit intimidating."
Erskine laughed, deep and warm and no different from any other time despite how much had just transpired between the two of them. "Only a little. I will see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, Doctor Erskine."
The Strategic Scientific Reserve was the name of the organization in which Erskine was employed and they were located in the back of an antique store guarded by an elderly woman who Harry was certain was there to be underestimated.
The three members of the organizations Harry was to be introduced, the two men and single women, were waiting for them several stories below the antique store front and passed a cavernous room that Erskine informed him would be where the procedure would take place when it was finally ready.
Peggy Carter was the woman, beautiful and untouchable beside the two other men, the older Colonel Phillips and the young and eccentric looking Howard Stark. Each of the three surveyed Harry curiously, then slightly disbelievingly.
"This is the one you said could help with your serum?" Phillips was the one to speak, voice holding that hint of scorn Harry had been expecting to hear from Erskine the previous day. "He's a kid."
"Yes." Erskine's grin was enormous and proud. "He is young and so he is full of much I had not once even stopped to consider. Harry, would you show them what you showed me?"
"I have to secure vows first."
The library had held several different books on contracts and vows Harry was able to pull inspiration from. He'd had a lot to choose from, too much really, but he eventually decided to go with a simple one, one best suited for muggles. It was prewritten and all that it needed to be binding was a signature in the signer's blood.
Phillips, Carter, and Stark accepted the short scrolls of parchment the vows had been written on, the incredulity their features had expressed upon Harry's entrance only grew as they read.
"You didn't mention we were expected to sign anything, Doctor." Carter's words coming accented with a brogue not much different from Harry's own was a discovery he found surprisingly welcome. The sound of home did wonders to settle the jitters that shook him imperceptibly.
"If this doesn't go as we'd hoped, I'd like to keep my privacy." Harry informed her and the two others. "In order for it to be binding, it needs to be signed in blood."
A startled laugh burst from Stark. "Are you…he's serious?"
"He is looking out for his safety just as much as you would yours. I made the same promise and found it to be for good reason. Although, I will admit that the blood was not a part of my own oath."
Harry shrugged unrepentantly. "I know you. I don't know them."
"Yes, but why blood?" Stark raised his parchment questioningly. "I can understand why you'd want a written agreement, but signing in our own blood seems a bit excessive."
"It would seem so, yes. But it's necessary."
Stark remained unconvinced, and from a quick glance at Carter and Phillips, they did as well. Harry did his best to suppress a frustrated huff. He knew walking in that there would be resistance, signing in blood wasn't exactly a common practice, even in the wizarding world. But he'd hoped the combined efforts of him and the doctor, coupled with a fair bit of curiosity would get the job done.
"Fine. Wingardium leviosa."
A chorus of shrieks filled the room as three chairs scraped across the floor in an attempt to push their occupants away from a suddenly airborne table.
"What…"
"Sign the contract and I'll tell you more. Please." Suddenly recalling something, Harry reached into his pocket and retrieved three crumpled but still fully functional quills. "Do you need a quill."
Beside him, Erskine nodded encouragingly. "Sign it."
No one moved for an awful moment and Harry began wondering if he'd have to shoddily attempt to obliviate the three. But then Carter reached into a coat pocket and drew back with a knife she then used to cut the palm of her hand. Her attempt at signing her name with the quill was a bit clumsy, but it got the job done just fine.
"Would you like me to help with that?"
Harry held out a hand questioningly, after a moment, the woman realized what he was offering and cautiously reached across the table to lay her hand palm up in his.
"Episkey."
The sluggishly bleeding wound sealed quickly, leaving nothing but a smear of blood across her palm.
Galvanized by her action, Stark and Phillips drew their own knives and carefully signed the bottom of their respective parchments, though only Stark accepted his offer to heal him.
Explaining the basics of his magic after that wasn't easy, but it was made quicker by his previous demonstration and Erskine's backing of all of his claims. And though it took a few more charms before they were fully convinced, it wasn't long before the crux of his presence was returned to.
"You think with your…abilities," Stark reiterated, "you might be able to help us perfect the serum?"
Harry was quick to cast out a disclaimer, these people looked as if one wrong or less than truthful word would be all it'd take to throw him out on his hear. "I can't say with absolute certainty that I have the answers to your problem. But between your science and my magic, I really am confident we can get it done."
"And you said in return we would help you how?"
"After the serum has been successfully completed and you've found your soldiers, I need the serum for myself."
Why?"
"So that I can go home. What I'm able to do now isn't enough, it'll take years for my abilities to grow to be enough to get me there. I don't have years. But the serum could amplify them, it could make them enough."
"I trust him." Erskine spoke calmly but with an immutable authority. "You should as well. He is deserving of our help."
Carter and Stark nodded, but it had become quickly apparent in the time he'd been in the room that they didn't call the shots. Phillips had remained mostly silent, choosing to observe rather than engage, and throughout it all his face had remained carefully impassive.
His response took several minutes, it was clear he was in no rush to make any kind of hasty decisions. When he spoke, it was a question directed at Erskine. "How are you sure that he won't end up another Schmidt, or one who's worse?"
"Because I've seen him show compassion for those any other would overlook, grieve for strangers, and indulge an old man just looking for company. He is not Schmidt. He is a good man."
"Hm." There was another pause and this time Harry was sure he was doing it just to be dramatic. "All right then. If you can get it to work, you won't hear me complain."
And finally, Harry could breathe. A yes wasn't yet his ticket home, but it was one step closer to it.
Hours were spent drawing up an arrangement between Harry and the Strategic Scientific Reserve, immortalizing their agreement in ink and paper so that neither side could back out when it best suited them. When they were done night had long since fallen and Erskine insisted on driving him home.
The worst of winter was beginning to wane, but the doctor still frowned when they pulled up at Harry's alley, clearly uncomfortable with allowing him out into the cold
"You do not have to stay here," he finally decided to offer, "I have a home with plenty of room."
Harry smiled, grateful but clearly with no intention of accepting. "Thank you, but I actually like it here. I've worked hard to make it what it is."
"Well, the offer will remain open if you change your mind. But I imagine you won't really need it in another few months. You will compensated generously for your help with the Reserve."
"I thought that had already been settled upon?" Harry said with a frown of confusion.
"The serum is a reward for a job well done. The time and work you put in leading up to it will still be deserving of compensation." Erskine looked immensely pleased with himself. "You are now a member of our organization and so will be treated as such."
The thought of finally having enough to afford a home with an actual ceiling and walls to retain warmth more authentic than that of a cheap warming charm stirred up an almost embarrassing amount of emotion in him. "Thank you."
A warm hand, rough with age and hard work, closed around Harry's for just a brief second. "Why do you thank me? This was all your idea" Same as every parting, Erskine closed their conversation out with the same question. "I will see you tomorrow?"
And just like always, Harry confirmed. "I will see you tomorrow."
He slept that night with no worry, no pressing anxiety or cloying homesickness. Only a hope that grew less tentative by the moment.
A/N: That Infinity Wars trailer though.
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