So, I am so totally pumped at the amount of support I got from everyone for the Hermione addition. A huge thank-you to everyone who commented! You guys are all so totally cool. Also, because it seems that there were a lot of people concerned if this was going to be so THIS IS NOT A HARRY/HERMIONE PAIRING FIC (that's not me being angry by the way, but trying to grab your attention). Whilst there are certainly many fanfics with such a pairing (some of which are absolutely awesome), I do not want to make mine one of them. They definitely share a more or less familial relationship in Great Expectations.

Umm... I don't think there are really any spoilers in this chapter. So enjoy, I guess. Or not. Whatever floats your boat.

Cinna

Part One: Great Expectations

Chapter Ten: Paracetamol and Codeine

"What's SHIELD?" are the first words out of the woman's mouth when he shuts the door behind him. Tony's half tempted to ignore her and ask his own questions, but there's a no-nonsense gleam in her eyes that reminds him disturbingly of Pepper, so he desists.

"Stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. They deal with weird stuff that shouldn't really get out to the public… and some that should."

"Such as?"

He shrugs, nonchalant, "Aliens, illegal tech, conspiracies… mutants. They've got their fingers in a lot of pies. Good guys; in case you were wondering- which I can tell you were- but their council are a bunch of dicks, so I'd say it's best to avoid them where possible." She nods slowly, mulling over the information.

"What's your name?"

"Hermione."

"Got a last name, Queenie?" her eyes are guarded, wary, but crazy intense too and it feels almost as if she were tearing into his soul. He swallows nervously and then the weight is gone and she's looking out the window. The lines around her mouth are sad.

"Granger. Hermione Granger." He writes the name down for future investigation (stalking).

"Where did you find Harry?"

"Thirty-thousand feet above sea level… and then sea level."

Hermione stares at him with heartbreak tearing apart her face.

"He's alive," he hurriedly amends, uncomfortable with the grief and horror his callous delivery brought, "And healing at a remarkable rate."

The relief that floods her face makes him feel worse. She fingers the collar of her oversized plaid shirt unconsciously, staring resolutely out at the passing cityscape as she collects herself.

"What happened to your clothes?" he blurts out when the silence gets too much. It's a valid question though; he'd like to think that no woman in their right mind would ever wear something that painfully awful.

"Wh-Oh… they were covered in blood." Her eyes are red rimmed and tired-looking.

"Whose blood?" Her lips thin unhappily.

"Mine."

"Oh." He suddenly feels awkward- not quite concerned, but feeling like he should be.

Hermione grimaces and glances down at her makeshift sling momentarily; "Speaking of which, do you have any painkillers? I've run out."

It's about now that Tony realises that the shortness of her temper and the tightness around her lips and eyes are the (now) obvious tells of pain. He gives her another once over- before, he'd been distracted mostly by her ghastly clothes and her curiously hostile but cooperative attitude. But now he looks- properly looks. Her left arm doesn't look broken, but there's obviously something wrong with it- he suspects a dislocated shoulder or perhaps a broken collarbone. Nothing serious.

Her face, beneath the bruises and the cuts and her terrifying hair, is pretty enough- though it borders on the plain side. There's a sharpness to her features that suggest a recent lack of food. Burns; blistering and scabby, creep up her neck from underneath her collar. They look untreated and he wonders- from the awkward way in which she sits- just how far down they go. She has a small beaded bag that has certainly seen better days slung over her shoulder (which must surely hurt, but she doesn't seem interested in removing it) and her knees are scraped and bloodied underneath her torn jeans.

All in all, she looks like shit, but not as bad as Harry had been (not that that would be hard to beat; apparently, falling from 30 000 feet sure does a number on you). And at least she wasn't missing any fingernails.

He taps their nameless driver on the shoulder, "You got any painkillers in here?" he points to the glovebox and Tony leans precariously over the passenger seat to retrieve them. They come in a small first-aid kit, packed to the brim with all the emergency drugs and bandages you'd never find in your average household kits. He hands her some paracetamol and codeine tablets (which he's pretty sure you need a prescription for).

A thought suddenly occurs to him, "You mind stopping at the closest shopping mall?" the driver looks as though he does mind, but a hundred dollar bill keeps him nice and quiet. Hermione raises a scarred eyebrow, Tony ignores her.

They pull up outside the front of some chain mall he's never heard of; their driver apparently happy to pretend to be a taxi (Tony approves), "Stay here Queenie; I'll be back soon," he taps what's-his-face on the shoulder in thanks on the way out and strides off with purpose to the closest dress shop.

Clothes shopping is not a pastime Tony regularly participates in. Like most men he knows, time is of the essence and it almost becomes a challenge to see just how quickly he can get in, find what he wants and get out again.

It's one of the reason's he normally sends Pepper to buy his good clothes. And also the reason why he would rather spend his time trying to cuddle a rabid mountain lion (that's on fire) than go shopping with a woman. They treat shopping as though it were a life-changing adventure.

It terrifies him.

Fortunately, shopping for women's clothing by himself is not so tedious. He picks the first items he sets his eyes on that look airy enough to not irritate her burns or constrict her movement, picking the larger sizes just to be on the safe side. The cashier takes his credit card with an awestruck expression on her face.

All in all, the venture takes about five minutes. Tony is immensely proud of himself.

On the way out, he can't resist the shiny sign of the Krispy Krème donuts. He buys a dozen glazed donuts and leaves the surly-looking employee (who doesn't seem to recognise him, which is nice) a twenty in change.

The car is still patiently waiting outside, the driver stoically ignoring the irate taxi drivers honking occasionally at him. Hermione looks on edge when he slips back in and sends him an unimpressed look.

"We stopped because you were hungry?" she says, eyeing the donuts with disdain.

"No, here-" he shoves the fancy bag of clothes into her lap. Curious, she looks inside, pulling out a dress. She looks confused as she rubs the soft fabric between her fingers.

"You're a cross dresser?" the driver coughs to hide his laugh. Tony restrains himself from kicking the back of his seat.

"No. They're for you."

"Oh…" she looks at the brand name on the tags and her eyes widen, "Mr Stark- these are Alice & Olivia."

He sends her an uncomprehending look, "And?"

He's quite sure he's never heard of that brand before.

"Well, they cost a small fortune."

He shrugs, "Lucky I have a lot of those then."

She folds the dress and puts it back in the bag, trying to hand it back to him; "I can't take these." Tony pushes back.

"Don't be stupid, of course you can." She looks as though she's about to protest again, "Don't make me have to return them. I hate returning things." He cuts her off, grimacing as if to prove his point. She purses her lips unhappily, but takes the bag back.

"Thank-you." She turns to look out the window again, shifting uncomfortably.

At the risk of sounding thoughtful, Tony feels that he has to add a "Besides, your shirt is hurting my eyes." She laughs and turns back to him.

"It is rather, isn't it?"

He wiggles his eyebrows at her lecherously, "So, are you going to put them on?"

Hermione smirks, untouched by his flirting "Not if all you've got to offer me are those donut's Mister Stark." Oh God, a woman with a sense of humour. This is going to be a blast. He offers her a donut anyway- she looks like she hasn't eaten for a week.

"Where are we going?"

"Hospital," her gaze turns sharp, "Your man's not there. We need a helipad though, where we're going." She nods, chewing thoughtfully on her sugary treat.

"And where is that?" he sends her a sharky grin, all teeth.

"Oh, you'll see." The car goes silent, their driver skilfully navigating the confusing streets.

"You know," she remarks lightly, watching him with intelligent eyes, "For an apparent genius, you don't seem to have many questions for me Mister Stark. I'd have thought you'd have dissected my very thought patterns by now," and Good God but her voice isn't even grudging of his intellect. In fact, it almost sounds expectant. He's liking this woman more and more.

He smiles again, "Oh, I have many, many questions. But unfortunately, so do my colleagues, and I'm not one for retell." Her lips curls up at the corners, "But since you asked, I do have one pressing question."

"Mm?"

"Why Ottowa? Of all places to travel by portal, Ottowa has to of been one of the least exciting. What was wrong with New York? I have a tower there. Or Malibu- I've got a place there too. Ottowa has to of been one of the least convenient places to end up in… well, besides 30 000 feet up in the air, that is. Speaking of which, how did he even survive? Is he a mutant? Are you a mutant? Why are you even here? You seem friendly enough, but you look like you've walked through a warzone.

"And how do you not know who I am? Or the Avengers? We were on every news station in the world this time last year- are you actually from a different universe? But then, you know what Alice & Olivia is- I don't, by the way- and you wear normal clothes, so I can't really be sure about that. Have you just lived under a rock your entire life?"

"That's not really one question." She looks very amused and her eyes are twinkling at the corners with mirth, as though she was about to burst into laughter.

"Then answer the first one; why Ottowa?"

She shrugs her shoulder, "We didn't exactly have the ability to control where we landed."

"So you're not denying the fact that you've travelled via wormholes?"

She huffs a laugh, "You look like you've seen stranger things, Tony Stark." Her eyes flick down to his chest and back up to his face, almost imperceptible. As if she knew what was hiding underneath his suit jacket and shirt.

He smirks to hide his sudden uneasiness, "Tony, please," he purrs. Hermione just stares, face unreadable, "So who is Harry to you, Miss Granger? Your boyfriend? I'll admit; I wouldn't have taken you for a cougar."

She frown's playfully at him, "Are you saying I look old, Mister Stark?" he rolls his eyes at the continued use of his last name.

"Oh yes, positively ancient," he drawls in retaliation. She sends him a haughty look.

"I'll have you know, Harry is much older than he looks. He's… been blessed with remarkably good genetics." The curl of her lips suggests there's probably more to it than good genes and he stores the information away for later. Her face softens, a sad smile spreading across her face, "Harry is a dear friend- a childhood friend. We met at school when we were very young. We've… we've been through a lot together," her eyes go shiny-bright, as though she's about to start crying. She sniffs and turns away, "But he is not my lover," she adds wetly.

Tony keeps quiet after that.

The car pulls up outside the hospital entrance and they climb out, Tony opening the door for his partner. He gives their driver another fifty.

"So what's with the stick?" they're waiting outside the lifts. Some of the hospital staff and patients are staring at him curiously. One or two seem to have noticed Hermione and look concerned.

"Stick?" he can tell she's suddenly playing dumb; her voice all faked sweetness and innocence. He gives her an exasperated look.

"Yeah, stick. Your buddy had one on him too… you were clutching it like a weapon when I met you in the comic store. What were you going to do with it? Poke me in the eye?"

She smiles sweetly, "Why Tony, I'm surprised you haven't worked it out; it's my magic wand. I was planning on turning you into a newt."

He laughs in surprise, "Right Queenie, sure you were."

Her eyes go all sparkly with amusement as the lift travels upwards, "Sure I was," she echoes, sounding very much as if she were enjoying some private joke.

"You know," he says slowly, thinking on her remark, "If you squint your eyes hard enough, that could well have been a Monty Python reference."

Her grin gets wider; she looks delighted, "Oh, thank Merlin, you have that here… But who knows, maybe I do weigh the same as a duck." The elevator pings open and she strolls out onto the roof. Tony stares after her, astonished and thrilled, because this is just marvellous, before remembering to get out of the lift himself.

The SHIELD helicopter is already waiting for them, the rotors at a temporary standstill. Clint, Thor and Natasha are already there; they'd been his covert back-up in case their traveller had been hostile and had gone straight to the hospital once he'd notified them that she was friendly.

Hermione's sure step falters when she notices them, suddenly put back on edge. He rests a placating hand on her back, careful to avoid her dodgy shoulder and burns.

"Guys, this is Hermione. She's our portal traveller and friend of our Harry." Natasha smiles at the girl disarmingly (disarming because Tony only see's it directed at people she doesn't trust, and it's all sugar and spice and thinly veiled deadliness, and it scares the shit out of him every time he sees it). Thor bows and rumbles an Asgardian greeting to her; Clint nods, eyeing his partner warily.

Hermione rewards Natasha with a grin of her own, and it's all perfect white teeth. Tony's suddenly not sure who he should be more terrified of.

"Ah… right…" he fumbles, suddenly convinced that there might well be two women in his close vicinity who could snap his neck with their thighs, "Well…" Holy Shit I'm going to die, "Hermione; this is Natasha, Thor and Clint. They're members of the Avenger initiative too- the Black Widow… er… Thor… and ah- Hawkeye, respectively." Clint sends her a little salute, but he looks about as terrified of the two of them as Tony feels. Thor appears oblivious, but maybe it's just his poker face.

"A pleasure," Hermione purrs, shaking each of their hands carefully. The girls share another terrifying set of smiles. Tony decides that Thor can be the one to sit between the two of them when they enter the helicopter.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asks again as Clint helps her into the seating straps. Natasha smiles in amusement and hands her a pair of earphones.

"You'll see," she says into the microphone, imitating Tony's own reply. The rotors churn into life above them and Hermione glares at the two of them, seated opposite herself and Thor. Clint sits at the front, happy- it seems- to be as far away from Hermione and Natasha as possible. Thor observes her with about as much subtlety as a horde of rhinos in a library. Hermione just smiles at him sweetly, not intimidated by his size in the least.

The ride to the helicarrier is done in relative silence- relative in that none of them speak, because the chopper makes about as much noise as a stampeding herd of elephants (or alternately, that horde of librarian rhinos from before). Normally, Tony wouldn't even bother; helicopters are so terribly plebeian (and noisy) when compared to his Ironman suit or a private jet. But they'd been pressed for time, and the coordinates for the portal had been too far from the nearest airstrip- not to mention, they weren't keen on scaring their target away with something as threatening as the Mark XLVII. It had been quicker (and more efficious) to just get there by chopper (though it had been a miracle in and of itself how close to the carrier it had been).

The look on her face when she realises that that patch of sky right there is something else entirely makes it all worth it.

"Oh my," he hears her breathe through the headphones as they rise above the optical camouflage panels and the full scale of the carrier comes into view, "That's… wow." The three of them smirk at her- she doesn't seem to notice, bloodshot eyes riveted on the massive turbines that keep Fury's monstrosity aloft.

'You muggles come up with some fantastic things!" she remarks with delight.

Muggles? The fuck are muggles?

Clint says as much into his microphone, twisting in his seat to look at her. Hermione blushes in embarrassment.

"Er… it's a-ah-a term my friends and I use for people who… aren't like us… you know, mutants," she seems to add the last part in as an afterthought, her cheeks flushing a furious pink. Natasha raises an imperious eyebrow but says nothing. Hermione pretends to spend her undivided attention on their landing.

Thor is out of the aircraft as soon as the rotors slow down enough to not blow him off the edge of the carrier; he'd always been uneasy in them. Natasha climbs down gracefully not long after as Tony helps Hermione out of her harness. He can see Steve marching towards them, his face grim and expecting trouble. Bruce waits at a safe distance.

Tony jumps out, raising his hands in placation as he draws closer, "Easy Capsicle; she's harmless." Well, probably. Steve looks as though about to ask him who 'she'is, but Hermione is coming out the door before he can clarify.

She still has that slightly dazed, awed expression on her face when she hits her left shoulder on the doorway.

The change is instantaneous; she cries out loudly, face turning ashen, eyes going all shiny with unshed tears. Tony wonders, as he rushes forward to catch her, what exactly it was she'd done to that arm.

"You okay Queenie?" he asks, arms coming up automatically to support her as she staggers forward. He accidentally jars her arm and brushes against her burns and a volley of expletives explode from her mouth in retaliation.

He's kind of impressed; those Brits sure knew how to swear, he'd give them that.

"Not really," she gasps when she gets a hold of herself. Her skin already feels cold and clammy, "Right now would be the perfect time for you to introduce me to that infirmary of yours though."

He nods, feeling guilty for not thinking of having them ready to pick them up, "Right." He turns to Steve, "Can you get someone from med-bay up here? Queenie's injured." As if on cue, Hermione's knees buckle.

"Guess those pain med's weren't as strong as they could have been," she offers weakly, eyes gaining a disconcerting glazed sheen to them. He stares at her- she really isn't looking very good at all.

"Fuck it," he murmurs, not keen on waiting for the paramedics, and scoops her up into his arms. She doesn't make a sound and he's taken aback by how little she seems to weigh.

"Shit girl! You really do weigh as much as a duck! You sure you're not a witch?" he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, already setting off for the med-bay.

Hermione laughs quietly, but the corners of her mouth are drawn down in pain, "Well I didn't want to say anything Mister Stark; I thought it might be awkward, what with you being a newt and all. Though, this position feels quite familiar so perhaps it's a good thing," the last of her words slur and Tony forces the panic down; he likes this girl, she's bright and funny. He doesn't like seeing her slurring her words, eyes dragging across things as though she were drugged.

He hears Clint mutter a confused "What do ducks have to do with anything?" to Natasha as he reaches the doors that lead into the bowels of the Helicarrier. The rest of the team trail along behind them like lost ducklings.

Natasha's exasperated "It's from Monty Python you idiot," puts a smile on his face though.

Bruce catches up to him, easily ignoring the confused stares of the SHIELD agents they pass, "What's wrong with her?" he asks quietly, taking in Hermione's pale face and dazed eyes, "She looks like she's going into shock," he notes. Tony sends him a harried look.

"I don't know… there's something wrong with her arm though, and she's been burnt." Bruce's eyes land on her exposed neck.

"The same as Harry?" he queries softly.

Not softly enough; Hermione stirs at Harry's name.

"Harry?" she cries out, head swinging over to stare at Bruce, "Where's Harry?"

Bruce smiles at her reassuringly, "He's safe. You can see him once you've been to the med-bay." Hermione isn't comforted.

"NO- Harry! I need to see Harry!" she calls out frantically, suddenly struggling in Tony's arms. He swears, sending a dark look at Bruce as he tries to restrain the woman.

An arm lashes out, hitting him in the neck and then she's slipping from his grasp as he wheezes. The loud thunk when she hits the ground sounds bad.

Her hitched screams sound worse.

"Harry-Ron-Harry where are you?" she sobs loudly, body curling up into the foetal position and shit but she looks awful; a mess of tears and screams and twitching limbs and fuck but there's blood blossoming through her shirt; her fall must have made her shoulder worse.

The useless paramedics are running up the corridor- he can see them out of the corner of his eye as he and Bruce try and restrain her, trying to soothe her- but they're slow- too fucking slow because they should have been here sooner, should have been her ages ago before he'd dropped her, and he knows that an unfair assessment because it's only been like a minute but shit he'd fucking dropped her, how could he have dropped her and God but this is a fucking disaster, he should have just waited for them he's such a FUCKING IDIOT.

And then they are there, and someone's injecting a sedative into her neck, quick and ruthless, and her agonized wails peter off into sobs for Harry, for Ron (whoever that is), her words growing slurred, her hands slipping from his shirt (and when had she grabbed his shirt?) and then the corridor falls quiet and they're placing her motionless form carefully on a gurney and wheeling her away.

Their hushed, frantic words echo incoherently on the metal walls.

"Well fuck," he says to Bruce, in a daze. Hermione's already disappeared around the corner. There's a smear of blood on the ground that he can't stop staring at. He feels like crying, because that was absolutely awful. Worse than waking up with a naked Loki in his bed. Which to be honest, he hadn't thought he'd be able to top.

Bruce nods shakily and helps him up. Steve and Thor are staring down the corridor; they look like they've seen a ghost. The others are staring at him. Natasha's eyes are mildly accusatory.

"You could have said she was badly hurt," she says calmly, but there's an edge to her voice that tells him to watch his back for the next week because she knows where he sleeps.

"I didn't- she'd seemed fine before!" he wipes at his face, "Fuck- she'd been walking and talking a though she didn't care!" he kicks a wall angrily, "God-shit – I'd just thought she'd been burnt and sprained her shoulder or something!" he's angry, so angry; at the med-team, for taking so long; at Hermione, for not telling him how bad her shoulder was; at Bruce, for setting her off by mentioning Harry; and mostly at himself, for being such an A-class fucking idiot.

Steve seems to have shaken himself out of his stupor, "Who is she?" he asks quietly, eyes flicking every so often down to the smear of blood on the floor- much like Tony.

"Her name's Hermione Granger; she's a friend of Harry's apparently… in case you didn't get that from her little episode right there." He remarks dryly, quickly recovering from his own shock, though the anger still simmers there, ready to be unleashed as soon he's on his own. Bruce sends him a knowing look.

"She says she's a mutant- and I think she'd more or less hinted at Harry being one too. Not that I could tell you what kind of mutant she is, but I'd wager it has something to do with her stick; if, that is, she's a mutant at all. Which I kind of doubt."

"Stick?" Clint's looking at him as if he were an idiot, which honestly doesn't feel too far off the mark right now.

"Thin, polished, about the length of my forearm. Textured grip- pretty similar to what they'd found on Harry."

"You think Harry has a similar ability?" Bruce asks, a slight frown growing between his eyebrows. Tony shrugs.

"I wouldn't rule it out, but he doesn't have the X-gene. She said they were school friends, so we'd better check up with Professor Xavier. Two people with similar abilities; it's possible they met as students at a similar school at some point. Xavier might have some clue as to what kind of school it was," a thought suddenly occurs to him and he turns on Steve, "Aren't you on babysitting duty? Fury is going to slaughter you if he finds out you've abandoned your post."

Steve smiles sheepishly, "Agent Hill offered to take over when she told me you were approaching the helicarrier with a guest."

"That was… very nice of her." He'd bet his left testicle she'd never offer the same service to him.

They stand in silence for a minute, each of them apparently waiting to the next to say something. Tony rolls his eyes in exasperation and leaves them, following the path of the paramedics to the med bay. The team trail along at his heels.

Fury meets them just outside.

"Who is she?" he asks, as brusque and to-the-point as ever.

"No idea," Tony say's airily, strolling past him but relishing the frustrated look on the Director's face, "Ask Steve."

He can't help but laugh at Capsicle's indignant cry as Fury rounds on him.

Poor Steve just can't seem to catch a break (no regrets)

I should explain the number of Tony's Iron Man suit. In IM3, he predominantly uses the MK XLII (42), and whilst I live in a world that likes to pretend that most of the events in IM3 did not occur, there are still some things that I'll swing with; Tony pumping out suits like Octomum does babies is one of them. Hence why I'm saying we're up to MK XLVII (47) in Great Expectations.

For those who didn't get the Monty Python references:

1. I pity you

2. Watch them. In particular, the Holy Grail, and the Life of Brian. When you watch the Holy Grail, you shall understand, my children.