Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Marvel, or any of their characters from either realm. Nor, sadly, do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

Here's the next chapter. Wow! What a response! I am ever so delighted that it's been so well received. Thanks for being so welcoming with this story. Enjoy.

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Chapter Two

Being on the east coast of the United States afforded Hermione many of the things she absolutely loved, not the least of which was a bevy of museums she would have to travel larger distances to visit otherwise. One a month, she told herself. That was to be her limit given the fact that she would be working so much on this trip. But did she stick to this? No. So far she had been in the United States a month and she had been to three museums in New York alone.

And this weekend was no exception. She was taking the train over to Washington D.C. in order to spend the entire weekend exploring parts of the Smithsonian. So many museums, so little time went through her head even as she was leaving yet another crowded passenger car. She was passing by the first class private passenger rooms when someone caught her eye. Stopping she moved over to the window again. It was the man from the diner and he was sound asleep. Knocking on the glass of the door lightly, she saw his eyes pop open and focus immediately on her. Waving at him, she opened the door.

"Hello," she murmured. "I suppose this is an odd thing, seeing as we already met informally, but my name is Hermione Granger."

His mouth twisted into a grin, as he reached out his hand to her, saying, "Bucky."

"Bucky? Was that something your friends called you?"

He gave a nod. "My first name is James."

"But you don't like it," she murmured.

"It's…" He thought it over. "Okay."

"At least you weren't named after a Shakespearian character most people don't know how to pronounce the name of without a guide to do as much," she said with a teasing grin.

"No, my parents named me after a president," he said.

Frowning she asked, "James Buchanan?" she asked him.

He blinked at her in shock.

"The name Bucky had to come from somewhere and it was the only name that fit," she murmured.

"You're a smart one, huh?"

"I'd like to think so," she said quietly.

"Do you know about popular culture?"

"Some, but I'm not exactly an expert," she told him.

"Come on in," he told her waving her in. "And you can tell me what you do know."

"Thank you," she said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. Sitting down across from him, she asked, "What would you like to know?"

"Who was Steve Jobs?" he asked.

"He revolutionized the world," she said casually.

"Oh is that all," came his dry response.

Laughing she told him a short history of computers, Apple, and his role in both worlds. She finished up by pulling out her iPhone and handing it over to him.

"It's a computer, a music player, and an arcade. It's a portable office, camera, and movie theater." He looked up into her eyes as she added, "It's the world in your pocket. Oh yes, and you can make phone calls with it as well."

"Sounds amazing," he said quietly.

"Yes, in a way, you're correct. It is definitely amazing, but it's just a machine. And it can only be as proficient as the person operating it." She winced. "Needless to say, I'm rather horrid at doing much with it other than playing a game called Angry Birds, answering texts, and accidently ringing someone else's cell with my arse."

"You're talented as well as smart?" This had her laughing, even as she was taking her phone from him and putting it away.

They went on speaking about different pop cultural phenomenon such as fast food (best avoided, but like with most things must be tried at least once), Lady Gaga (I don't comprehend her as an artist, but some of her music is okay), and social networks (I'm not on any of them. So you're going to have to ask someone else).

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"Washington D.C.," she told him. "I'm going to be spending the weekend exploring the Smithsonian and all of its different museums."

He looked a bit more alert after she said as much, asking, "Do you know which ones you're going to?"

She worried her lower lip, before adding, "I thought I'd take it by ear and go to what sounded interesting." She looked over to him, inquiring, "Where are you going?"

"The Smithsonian as well," he replied. "American History Museum."

"Really? Is it a good museum?"

"Pretty good," he told her, already feeling trepidation if she decided to go to the museum. Damn exhibit would have him looking like a freak in her eyes, he thought. It was bad enough…

"What's the matter?" she asked him quietly.

He looked to her startled. "What?"

"You started going all stony faced and looked about ready to jump out of the train," she murmured. "Not something I would recommend, by the way."

"Wise ass," he said, grinning to himself. "I, uh, I have secrets."

She thought that over. "As do I." Reaching out with her hands, she began absently caressing his fingers and palm. "We just met and something tells me both of our secrets are rather large. If and when either of us is ready to say, we can."

"Okay," he breathed, loving the feel of her fingers caressing his.

"My full name is Hermione Jean Granger, I was born in London, and I hate heights."

He smiled at what she had said. "I'm James Buchanan Barnes, I was born in New York, and I hate broccoli."

"The evils of broccoli cannot be measured," she teased him.

"You'll protect me from it?"

"Of course, but I'm sorry to say that you're on your own when it comes to Brussel sprouts." When all he did was blink at her, she admitted, "I like them, but only with a lot of bacon."

"Bacon?"

"Everything is better with bacon," she told him.

"Really? I have to put that to the test," he murmured. "A shoe would taste better with bacon?"

"Everything one can consume as food is better with bacon," she corrected herself.

"Doughnuts?"

"Yes."

"Liver?"

"Yes, and before you ask that's any kind of liver," she told him.

"Even yak liver?"

"You do get around gastronomically speaking, don't you?"

That had him smiling all the more broadly.

"I wouldn't know about the yak liver. But I can say that with all the other livers I've partaken with bacon, it is brilliant."

"And which livers would that be?" he asked.

"Goose, duck, chicken, and beef. But admittedly, I do believe that the bacon outweighed the liver when it came to the beef liver," Hermione admitted.

"By what ratio?"

Her cheeks went a bit pink. "Approximately five to one."

That had him chuckling quietly.

"So needless to say it was mostly bacon with a bit of liver," she murmured.

"Did the liver hurt the flavor of the bacon?" he inquired.

"Of course it did," she replied. "But the bacon was wonderful anyway."

"Why is that?"

"It's bacon. It doesn't need a reason to be good."

Laughing fully now, he asked, "Its good all on its own is that it?"

Smiling now, she murmured, "Yes." She moved over to be sitting on his right hand side. "How much longer do you think the trip will be?"

He looked outside and calculated the time to go. "About an hour and a half more."

"I'm going to get some sleep," she told him.

He watched as she settled into the corner of the sitting area.

"Why are you so tired?" he asked her.

"People are idiots," she muttered, even as her eyes slid shut.

"Okay," he replied, only to have her smiling sleepily.

"Not you."

"That relieves my mind."

"Good. Now hush and let me sleep."

He ended up pulling her over against his body. She settled down more comfortably, letting out a long breath even as he was rubbing her back. "Better?" he breathed.

"Yes," she sighed, rubbing her face against his shoulder before settling back down again. "Thanks, Bucky."

It wasn't until he was sure that she was sound asleep that he murmured, "Anytime, sweetheart."

TBC…

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And that's another chapter flying home to the internet. Thanks for taking the time to read my story. If you could take the time to review, I would truly appreciate it. Take care and have yourselves a gratifying day.