A/N: Thank you fateforgotme, k8lyn01, firesong23, Guest, Margareitha Malfoy-Nott, meldz, Honestly don't you two read, Littlemissmoffey, craaazyaboutMalfoy, Guest for the reviews. I'm glad you're liking it, and I'm so grateful for the feedback.
So let's touch base. This story's timeline ranges from 1987-2016. I could probably go farther than that, but every story has to end sometime. Fear not, though, we're still in 1997. So we're not even partying yet like it's 1999.
I got a couple of comments on Natasha's and Hermione's future interactions. I'm hoping I won't disappoint you guys when they happen, but I'm planning for some epic conversations and adventures.
Got a question when she'll meet the Avengers. I have her scheduled to meet a few. Sorry. That's all I'm going to say.
Also, sorry to those who jumped into this hoping for a love story between Hermione and someone else. Though I have plans for her to become romantically involved with an Avenger of your choosing, it's not the point of the story and may not develop in the way you hoped it would. Be that as it may, I hope you still stick around because not every story is a fairy tale stringed up with a cookie-cutter clean happily ever after.
The Avenger in questions-who Hermione is looking to be involved with-is Bucky at this point. I've got a lot of shout-outs for him, but there is still time to cast in your vote.
Again, thank you, readers and followers and reviewers for your support. You're now good to enjoy Chapter 12!
P.S. Can you spot the foreshadow to a future character?
Chapter 12: The Bracelet
Movement comes from the other side of the bed, and Hermione now knows The Baron is awake. The lamp switches on, and she decides then they're passed…no, she's passed such formalities in calling him The Baron. They had sex last night. Three times. Hermione's not exactly sure what she expected with him in bed, but she'd been surprised nonetheless. He's not a half-bad lay, and there were times she wanted to address him in the thick of it but couldn't fathom calling him sir. It's time, she decides, to just call him Baron. His birthname. Mr. Von Strucker in public.
She reaches to her bedside table and flicks on her own lamp and rolls over. "I'm calling you Baron from now on. When it's just us. Mr. Von Strucker when people are around."
His chuckle is throaty, and he reaches behind him to squeeze her thigh through the sheets. "Mr. Pierce and Mr. Malick will be here soon. See that you impress them at breakfast."
"I thought I was supposed to do that tonight with the Soldier."
"Not all of your talents require a victim, sweetheart. I think Mr. Malick will enjoy your tea trick and Mr. Pierce is a tulip man, but the table setting only has orchids. Perhaps you can dabble at the ambiance."
She frowns. "I could do those things before all this."
He leans over the mattress to cup her face. "These men have put me in charge of this project. Of you. It's a thirty-year wait for them, like I said, but they have no idea the extent of your powers. They might be…alarmed." His eyes dart all over the room because after taking an hour smoke and tea break with Kristof in the security booth outside last night, she came back to her room and…redecorated. She used her experience of changing milk into teas and pens into pencils in transforming the bedroom.
Baron hadn't particularly liked the yellow custard walls and light blue boarders, but so what? She likes them. Bright, spring colors are soothing. Happy for her. They remind her of her mum's Easter dresses for church and the tulle atrocities she'd been stuffed in. Those memories are of good times and just because they turned sour, Hermione's not going to allow them to reflect her likes and dislikes.
Still. The yellow and blue are starting to fade, and the comforter and sheets have already changed to their original pattern. The bedframe is losing its mahogany exterior and slowly reverting back to polished cedar. The bookshelf she tampered with has shrunk a bit, too. Damn. Then the tub probably did the same.
Hermione gets out of bed and throws on a silk robe, checking her reflection in the vanity. It looks like Baron tried to mark her up well and good. She rubs at the faded hickeys on her neck and then makes a face at the teeth imprint. It's healing like the other blemishes but it might not do so in time for breakfast. The last thing she wants is Alexander Pierce and Gideon Malick to find out she's Baron's mistress.
She purses her lips unhappily and circles the teeth mark, thinking off the layers of coverup she'd have to apply. Maybe a scarf. Something to hide…
And like that, the bruise is gone.
She gasps and leans closer to the mirror. Impossible! She presses at the skin and the mark reappears. She furrows her brows and concentrates on wanting it to be hidden like before and lets out an astounded laugh when it's gone.
"What's so funny?" Baron asks as he throws on his boxers. His back is to her, so he can't see what she's doing.
"Uh…nothing," she lies. "Just laughing at all the places you got me last night. You're an animal."
He smiles cockily at her over his shoulder and rounds the bed, widening the opening of her robe when he reaches her. He rakes his gaze hungrily over her exposed skin, possessiveness make his eyes glitter, and she wonders if she'll ever think or look at him the same way he does towards her. She's not…indifferent. Like she said before, she's flattered. He's handsome, powerful, and an excellent provider of opportunity and comfort. She's spreading her legs because of those last three things, especially. Perhaps the slice of doubt she's been having will fade as she climbs the ranks in HYDRA and actually gets a clearer view of the bigger picture.
She'll impress Pierce and Malick and later others as Baron introduces her to the others in higher positions. She wants to know what they know and do what they do. People respect them. They're leaders and entrepreneurs, and people follow them because they know brilliant thinkers when they see them. She wants to be that. She wants to be more than a weapon. That's too easy, and she hates easy things. In an hour, she could have the whole facility at her beck and call, but she wants to people to willingly follow her.
During her time with Kristof last night in booth, she did a lot of thinking. She thought of the Soldier and the doubt and her upbringing. She thought of her years in the Red Room, and the lethal young ladies produced there. What she dwelt on the most, though, were the flaws in all of those situations and how she could make them better.
She wants to lead HYDRA. Be the main head when all these old men keel over and die. Children won't have to be taken and displaced. There will be no force of compliance. People will want what she has to provide because they see it's the better way.
"Why are you smiling so big?" Baron brushes the swell of her breast.
"Because I loved last night." Another lie. She's beginning to like lying to him.
"Me, too. But I may have got carried away. Apologies. Your first time shouldn't have been so rough."
She chuckles and closes the flaps of the robe, folding her arms and throwing him a sly smirk. "It can be debated whether it was or not."
Baron's grin slips, and his nostrils flare. "I was under the impression there weren't boys in the Red Room. I find it plausible there were male guards…" He grabs her arms and gets in her face. "Did you let what of those bastards touch you?"
"Oh, you." She breaks free from his hold and snorts. "No. I had a girlfriend. We did things, all right?"
His mouth falls open, and now he resembles a gaping fish, and she's sees her words settling. He blinks once he's processed and then goes to grab her arms again, this time gently rubbing with his thumbs.
"What kind of things?"
She resists the urge to roll her eye but fears the shear velocity would knock her back to last week. "Things I shouldn't discuss so close to breakfast with your employers."
Disappointment mars his features, and then he asks, "But do you like women? Because last night—"
"A woman, and I did enjoy last night."
"What did she look like?"
He's trying to imagine it, the pervert.
"Doesn't matter now."
"Are you too still in touch?"
She faces the closet, scowling at the clothes. "No."
"Milas?"
"Hm?" She searches for something appropriate to wear for breakfast. Not too casual as to avoid being disrespectful, but not too fancy.
"At another time farther down the road, would you like if I brought a friend to join us in our…activities?"
"I want to talk about this later. You should get ready."
"All right, all right." He slaps her bum. "I get it. I'll leave. See you soon."
"You, too."
The door closes, and she lets out a breath. Her teasing wasn't supposed to fire back at her and now Taru is fresh in her mind again.
Hermione decides on a Maison Margiela dress, smartly cut and professional as well as feminine. She lays her choice on the back of the vanity chair to go shower. Under the hot water, she practices how she'll speak and respond to Pierce and Malick. She'll be charming. The Red Room taught her skills of being a delightful converser. It's time to put those skills to the test.
Hermione paints on a smile when walking into Baron's office, not showing any of the surprise she felt when seeing him, Pierce, and Malick already at the table. Their plates are near picked clean from and as she approaches closer, their mugs of coffee are half full. They've been at it for a while, it appears.
Without her.
Apparently her meeting time with them is different than Baron's.
"Hello," she greets.
Malick is first to rush at her with an extended hand. He's a proud looking man, and when he speaks his voice is gravely deep, but his Russian need work.
"Sir, please, you can speak English," she tells him. She pats the large hand squeezing hers.
"Thank you." He smiles gratefully. "You're English is very good. Is that a trace of…Surrey I hear."
"Mr. Von Strucker nor the Red Room managed to scrub it."
"Ah, I must've forgot your origins, young lady, and I'm surprised you even remember them." He clocks a cold, toothy grin at Baron, a reprimand promised in his eyes.
Hermione is quick to reply, wishing to save Baron from any embarrassment or punishment. "I remember an unhappy household. My mother a verbally abusive zealot and an ambivalent and mostly absent father. Those memories are not something I dwell on in all honesty. The present and the future hold much more importance. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Von Strucker and Mr. Pierce?"
She sees relief flood Baron's face, and Mr. Pierce dabs his smirking lips with his cloth napkin. He gets up from the table and joins Malick's side, showing him his own hand. He's a lean man in his gray suit with a proud, upright spine and bright blue eyes promising adventure and opportunity. She suspects him to be a quite the heartthrob back in the day.
"I couldn't agree more, Ms. Abegglen. Please sit down and join us."
"Thank you." She sits down opposite of the two men, next to Baron. She fills her plate from the trays in the middle of the table, hunger plaguing her. The last seven years had taught her to control her hunger, to keep it in a stasis state when necessary. With the new changes to her body, though, she can't ignore her empty stomach. Last night after her last round with Baron, she had to sneak down into the kitchen and plow through the cupboards and icebox.
Malick quirks his lips at her piled-high plate. "Your metabolism his very high now, I take it."
"Yes."
The breakfast choices are unusual, but she recognizes them as American. Sugar and salt and fat dance on her tongue, and her stomach sings praise. She butters what's called a biscuit—not the kind she knows from her childhood—and spreads strawberry preserves on it. The eggs are scrambled and fluffy and have a salty, heady echo of sharp cheddar. There are blueberry pancakes, as well, and she pours thick brown syrup over them and tucks in.
She feels the men's eyes on her.
"You'll like America," comments Pierce, sipping from his coffee mug. "Gideon, won't she like America?"
"I imagine she will. A shame you have to return to Russia so soon."
A tension settles thickly in the room, and Hermione senses irritation coming from Baron. She gives him a side glance, and he's tracing the rim of his mug, his jaw clenched.
Did she miss something?
"I have no reason to think I won't be able to go someday," she replies unsurely.
"And you don't think she'll be wasted there in the KGB?" pipes Baron. "With her talents? Milas, show the man what you can do?"
Fork and knife hovering over her pancakes, she switches her focus from Baron to the two men and then carefully lowers her tools. She wipes her hands on her napkin and throws them a tiny smile.
"What would you like to see?"
"Surprise us," says Pierce.
She nods and gets up from her chair and circles the table. She picks up the man's mug, the porcelain lukewarm. Her heart beats fast, nervous to try this new trick she learned in the kitchen last night.
"You're coffee is cold, sir," she tells him. "Let me help with that."
She concentrates on the black liquid and soon feels the porcelain smarting her skin. She hurriedly puts it down and steps back, watching the coffee boil. Pierce laughs and nods in approval.
"I'm sorry. Is that too hot?" Hermione touches the scalding hot rim of the cup and the steam disappears. An audible, crackling sound erupts. The coffee freezes and then porcelain frosts over. There's a moment of utter silence, and then the mug shatters and solid hunk of black skitters across the table and debris.
"Oh, no. I've made a mess. I'll clean it up." She wriggles her fingers over the pieces and then circles her wrist. The shards of the mug piece together, and the black chunk of coffee slips back into place and dissolves. Steam rises from it again, but this time the liquid is not boiling.
Pierce's expression has turned neutral as has Malick's. She catches the latter's eye, and he shrugs with a mildly impressed simper.
"Tell me you can do more than parlor tricks."
"Of course I can." She flicks a steady, disapproving gaze on Baron. He told her to take it easy on them. "I just don't want to scare you. I subdued the Winter Soldier last night. Please be sure you're ready."
"Ms. Bērziņš mentioned she had a second row with the asset," says Pierce, his expression steely.
Baron says nothing, but Hermione removes the attention off of him and back on to her. "You say you want something with a little more substance. Unfortunately, I don't have a an animal or insect at the ready, but I'm sure you've heard I can force them to do whatever I want. Hopefully, this will suffice, but may I please sit first."
Both men pause at the odd request, and Malick eventually gestures to her abandoned chair. She nods at him a thanks and concentrates on it. The horrible sensation she experience the night before hits her again, but as she pops into the seat, she forces herself to remain the picture of a calm and collected young lady. She swallows the vomit at the back of her tongue. The lights on the chandelier flicker and a few of them even blacken completely.
Malick's expression is one of both marvel and apprehension. However, Alexander Pierce's face is still cool mask of indifference. As for Baron, he's never looked more displeased with her. It's not that he looks angry. He's just not looking at her at all. He's got a fist over his mouth, and he's drilling daggers into his coffee.
She's done something wrong. Maybe…this is why Baron told her to hold back.
Still, she doesn't understand. They wanted this. They all wanted her to be this way. Baron said this had been a thirty-year project. To find someone with abilities like her and amplify them.
She wants to read their minds, but Baron instilled in her to never invade her superiors' minds. To distrust them is to distrust HYDRA.
"Milas," says Baron.
"Yes?" she replies quietly.
"Finish your breakfast and go for a run. I have a few things to discuss with Mr. Pierce and Mr. Malick."
"I'm actually done, thank you." She leaves the room, closing the door behind her and resting her back against it. She stays there for a few moments and then faces the neighboring portrait of Schmidt.
"I get the feeling," she whispers, "the only one allowed to be both different and powerful was you."
The moment the door closes, The Baron is on his feet. "Gentlemen, I did not know she could teleport. In fact, I didn't even know how she knew she could do it. She was supposed to," he gestures to the orchids in the vace, "change those goddamned things into tulips or something. Turn your suits pink. God, I don't know. I assure you tonight when she fights the Soldier, you'll won't regret—"
Gideon holds up hand to cease his ranting. "We've seen enough, Baron."
"We worried and were prepared this investment of ours would not turn out the way we hoped." Pierce removes slim, rectangular case from his inner coat pocket. "She's too powerful. The boiling and freezing of my coffee alone nearly gave me a heart attack. Imagine her doing that on a larger scale."
"She's loyal to HYDRA," argues The Baron. "And this what we wanted. One of them transformed to an unlimited force to be reckoned with. We can only stay in the shadows for so long. When the time comes for the great reveal, we will be opposed. We need her when that happens. She'll be able to vanquish an army—"
"She could destroy us first," remarks Malick. "She should've been better conditioned. She should not remember her childhood at all, Baron. She now has the potential to know the truth about her parents."
"That is what the failsafe is for. Making her think they hated her and were scared of her. I planted those false memories, and they have held up for seven years."
"If you're so confident in it and in her loyalty," says Pierce, "then why haven't you told her Mommy and Daddy are dead."
"The same reason why none of us have told our wives the truth about what we really do and who we really. There's always that fear they don't love us as much as they say they do. And that's just human nature. Doubt is always there. I still have confidence of Milas' loyalty, but there is that chance she may not be ambivalent in hearing that I ordered the hit on her parents."
Pierce might as well be a stone wall. He's relaxed but unmoved in the slightest. "I talked to Ms. Bērziņš briefly upon my arrival this morning as I mentioned. She said—in case you failed to—that Milas breached the asset's mind last night. We now have reason to believe she knows more than she should be privileged to. In cases like these, I'd have no qualms in putting her down, but since she's not like your other trainees and we were able to undo the damage she did, I'm willing to turn a blind eye. I'm also willing to accept you're validity in her future usefulness. I can't ignore how long we've waited for this, though, she's nothing what I wanted. She's still got her own mind. That's too risky and it'd be even riskier to put her in the chair. She'd blow us to hell by accident now she's at full power."
"Baron," starts Malick, "we're closing the file for now on this project. And after what we've seen today, I'm sure Pierce agrees with me we have to go forward with caution and start thinking of countermeasures in case she'll ever need them."
"You can't be thinking—"
"We're going to need someone powerful enough to kill her and, Baron, this time I'm not looking for loyalty in HYDRA. I'm looking for someone loyal to you. So loyal, they'll do anything for you without question."
Baron releases a ragged breath, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Pierce, you had me design her to be unstoppable, and the only thing that could possibly counter her is another one of her kind. I don't suppose you have another one of those up your sleeve."
"Make one."
"Make one? Are you mad? You can't make a bloody witch. Magic isn't a serum you can inject in someone."
Gideon opens both hands and smirks. "The world of science is making breakthroughs every day, and we're not saying you have to succeed by tomorrow. Dear Milas took time, didn't she?"
"But don't take too much time," Pierce warned. He opens the case he removed from his blazer, revealing a thin, metal strip. "Until then, you know what to do."
Baron stares at the box, helpless and disappointed. Thirty years down the drain. This had been a dream of his father and Malick's father. All because what? Because Hermione Jean Granger might be in there somewhere. He tried. He really did try to remove that pathetic slip of a brat.
Milas was never supposed to return to Moscow after the Red Room. It had been a farce from the beginning. She went there to learn discipline and nothing more. She's too powerful to be a mere double agent. Such a job is beneath her talents. She'll be wasted, and it's unfair. He wanted to surprise her. Whisk her away to sunny resort and spoil her with her own clothes and books not belonging to his estranged wife's.
He closes the box, clenching his fingers around it, wanting to break it and everything in the room. Earlier, Pierce had gone over the importance of the bracelet. There's been unrest in the magical community of the United Kingdom as of late, and his private science division managed to nab a human-born like Milas who'd been wandering about, trying to avoid detection from everyone. A man. His wand was snapped, and tests upon tests were performed in learning ways to subdue their kind if their world ever threatened the real one.
It turns out, a slight adjustment to a basic EMP device can render a magic-born obsolete. Their magic is similar to static-energy and can be treated almost the same way as electricity. However, the first byproducts failed after the devices lost charge. Pierce then had a device developed where the magical-wearer would be charging their own manacle. Fueling their own failure. The bracelet's design is next-generation material. It's undetectable under a radar and a metal detector. Convenient to hide and write off as a cheap trinket by an observer.
"Energy is energy, my friend," Pierce had said.
"Another thing?" says Pierce.
"What?" The Baron almost screams.
"Does she know she can kill with her abilities?"
He thinks of the incident with 54, and how Milas had told him she believed herself capable of killing when in someone's head. She likely remembers what happened, but she has yet to bring it up. She could've easily killed the Winter Soldier yesterday, but she didn't. The Baron's not sure if it's because he ordered her not to or she can't recall what she once theorized as a child.
"I don't know," he answers somewhat truthfully. "But I don't think she knows she can stop a person's heart by will if that's what you mean."
"Not yet," Malcik comments.
"The bracelet should hold off such predicaments for the time being," assures Pierce. He gets up from his seat and buttons his blazer. "Now with that all out of the way, I'll be packing up the asset. I mean what I said. There will be no show tonight."
"Of course," says The Baron and raises his coffee mug in a salute. "Cheers. May our next endeavor bear more fruit. To our next witch."
The three men clink their mugs together and drink. If any of them looked out the window, they'd see Milas running around the facility a little too fast for a normal human being, curly ponytail bobbing and whipping in the wind.
To Be Continued..
