First things, first, I want to cover some things that have been brought up in comments (thank you, by the way. You're all fabulous).
1- Harry is coming. I promise. Chapter 13, I swear to you he'll be there. But unfortunately, because this story does not just revolve around Harry, there are things that need to be covered before he returns to the story. I understand your frustration, really, I do. I'm a fanfiction reader too, and it's always frustrating to have to wait for characters you're rooting for to reappear. But I am the writer of this one, and I am telling you; look forward to ch13. Until then, I appreciate your patience.
2- I'll clarify Iron Man 3 in relation to this story.
It did not happen. So (SPOILERS) Tony still has his arc reactor and he still has all his Iron Man suits. Furthermore, I will pretend that He and Pepper didn't work out (which is such a shame). However, there are some elements from the third movie that will be maintained in GE. For one, he's producing different suits at an accelerated rate. This is something that I can see him doing, and it was kind of a thing independent of the third film.
Anyway, I'll shut up now. Read the chapter :P
Cinna
Part One: Great Expectations
Chapter Eleven: Mornin' Sleeping Beauty
The only sign of Hermione's awakening is a sharp intake of breath that is not let out for an unusually long time. Her eyelids do not flutter, her fingers do not twitch and her throat makes no sound to indicate her sudden arrival into wakefulness. Her breathing settles back down into an almost convincing rhythm not long after.
Tony continues to peel his apple with the pocketknife he'd borrowed off Steve (and God but could the man be any more of a Boy Scout?), content to wait until she stops pretending to be asleep. Bruce- who sits next to him (Tony's feet rest on his lap; he's trained his Bruce well- he doesn't even complain anymore)- resumes reading his book (The Picture of Dorian Gray). He enjoys his apple in peace for a good nine and a half minutes before she apparently becomes sick of the ruse and 'stirs' into wakefulness. Her eyes crack open slowly, but they're already focussed, landing on him almost instantaneously.
"Tony?" she murmurs hoarsely; that, he guesses, is not faked. He waves at her.
"Good mornin' sleeping beauty. Nice to see you join the land of the living." Her gaze lingers on the small pile of apple peelings on his lap and the knife he's wiping absentmindedly on his jeans. Her eyes travel to Bruce, who is peering over the top of his book to see her, and watches him with an inscrutable expression.
"How long have I been out?" he looks at his watch, pretending to do the addition (he already knows; he's counted every hour).
"Going on ten hours now. You were in surgery for about two of those- they had to check out your shoulder-" he gives her a dark, angry look, "-to make sure there was no life-threatening or permanent damage and you've been asleep for the rest." He picks up another apple from her bedside table and starts to peel it.
"I see."
"I'm sure you do." He grimaces when he accidentally breaks a beautifully long curl of skin. "You know, it's quite strange…" he keeps his voice as light as possible, but inwardly he seethes.
"What's strange?" Hermione's smart; she catches onto the edge of his voice and her voice is equally guarded in retaliation.
"Oh, it's just that, you know, the surgeons were telling me not three hours ago that your shoulder was just the strangest thing."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Doctor Lapinsas- he's the doctor that's been working on Harry, did you know- told me that they'd found under a layer of brand-new skin- which had torn when you fell, by the way- a mess of freshly damaged and disconnected tissue that extended all the way through your shoulder.
"It was almost-" he carves out a slice of apple with the utmost care, "-as if you'd just been stabbed. But of course, that would be impossible, because there was not a single mark on your shoulder- just some very new skin that had grown over what must have been an old injury." He chews on the slice of fruit slowly, not continuing his very interesting story until he had finished the entire piece, "It was quite curious, Lapinsas was saying, because the healed skin lay quite literally over the top of where they would have expected to find the entry and exit wounds of your stab wound," he cuts another slice, trying very hard to control his temper; it would not do for him to start snarling at her. He takes comfort in the hand that rests on his shin and reigns it in.
"And did you know what Lapinsas' assistant was telling me? Gavin- that's his name- was saying how lucky it was that they had discovered the wound so early, before the tissues had begun to heal without guidance. He was telling me that the chances- had they not found it until then- of you regaining full mobility of the limb again would have been as low as ten percent." He eats the slice. Bruce is watching him now, his face mostly shielded from Hermione by his book.
Hermione makes no reply.
"Why didn't you say anything? You'd been fucking stabbed." She stares at him, her mouth downturned.
"To be fair," she rasps a minute later, "you never asked."
At that, Tony's quite ready to stand up and leave and find a workshop to trash; preferably his own.
Because she's right, of course. He hadn't asked; hadn't even bothered to have a med team ready to meet her when they got off the helicopter. All he'd done was give her some painkillers and buy her some new clothes. And God, but her eyes aren't even accusing; like she doesn't even blame him for it.
Vanguard against evil my arse.
Bruce squeezes his shin comfortingly, but effectively preventing him from running away.
He nods but says nothing to her. Not that he could say anything to her right now, even if he tried.
"How did you heal the skin of your shoulder?" Bruce asks quietly; it's a question that's been sitting in his mind all day, "We contacted the men you first came in contact with; one of them told us he used a brown liquid that you'd gotten from you bag that had healed the skin at an accelerated rate. He said you'd called it Essence of Dittany.
"We tried to find the vial in your bag, but we couldn't even open it." Her eyes look smug at that, "I know Dittany. It's a medicinal herb from Crete. But it's never been proven to be anything more than an anti-bacterial agent. Were you lying? I find it hard to believe some new brewing technique could ever hope to have such an effect."
"I didn't lie." She speaks slowly, as if searching for the words, "It is made from dittany… but there's an extra element to it."
"What? What is it? Something like that could revolutionise the medical world. Just imagine the application on burn victims alone." There is an almost dreamy tone to his voice, as he imagines a world with ready access to the miracle drug.
Her face looks sad, almost pitying, for a moment, "I-it's not something that could be replicated- certainly not on a large scale." Bruce's face falls, but he still looks hopeful.
"Is it your invention?" She shakes her head.
"No. I distilled it, but it was not my creation. I'm sorry."
Bruce sighs sadly, dog-earing the page of his book and setting it down on his lap, "I suppose they call them miracle cures for a reason."
Tony's calmed down enough by now to return to the conversation.
"I went looking for you, you know." He says casually, "The man who found you- Aubrey wasn't it? Well, he said that you had told him you were British- though I'd kind of gathered that from your accent- so I went looking through their public records for any mention of a Hermione Granger."
"Oh?" she sounds genuinely curious, which is not what he'd suspect from someone trying to hide their identity.
"Nothing past the age of eight… where you died. In a house-fire… your parents died in the hospital from pneumonia three days later. Their lungs had been burnt by the heat of the blaze and neither had been able to stave off infection. It was labelled a tragic accident but there were no suspicious circumstances. An electric blanket had caught fire in your bedroom."
"Oh." There is definitely disappointment in her tone now, "I remember that fire… but it ended… better."
He sits up, removing his feet from Bruce's person, "What do you mean, 'you remember that fire?' Hermione Granger died; they identified her body from her dental records. And there was no reason for her death to have been faked- believe me; I went looking.
"You cannot be Hermione Granger." Her eyes flash dangerously, and he suddenly remembers her stare-off that morning with Natasha.
"I am Hermione Granger," she snarls angrily, "Do not accuse me of lying Tony Stark. My name is Hermione Jean Granger and I was born on the 19th of September, 1979. But I am not this world's Hermione."
Tony stares at her long and hard. She gives him as good as she gets.
"Fine." he grinds out when she doesn't elaborate.
"Fine." She echoes.
"Then where do you come from?" Bruce asks in an effort to placate the situation. Her eyes flick to him and she relaxes slightly.
"I want to see Harry first." She says calmly, "Then I will tell you everything. But only when Harry is present."
"I don't think you're in any position to make demands," Tony points out. She raises an eyebrow and smirks.
"I do believe I am, actually. You know nothing of me- and I'll bet you haven't found anything about Harry either. How could you? I bet you don't even know his last name. You don't know where we are from or how we got here, you don't know what either of us are capable of, and most of all, you have nothing to coerce us with- only each other. And I will have know; such a move would not end well.
"So I will say again; I will answer your questions, but only in the presence of Harry- and he must be awake." Her eyes seem to sparkle for a moment, then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "And I want my stick."
Tony pouts and stabs at the remains of his forgotten apple sulkily. Bruce snickers.
"She's got you there."
"But Harry might not wake up for ages Bruce!" he whines, carving a sad face into the browning flesh. Hermione huffs a laugh.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that. If you get me to him, I'll be able to revive him."
Tony raises an unbelieving eyebrow, "How are you going to do that? Kiss him and dislodge the poison apple?" She rolls her eyes.
"My stick." She demands again.
Tony sighs. He has a feeling he's still pouting, but Hermione seems to just take it in her stride, "Fine. We'll stop off at my lab first."
She smirks again, "Trying to unravel my secrets, Stark?" he just sends her a look that says well duh.
Without further ado, she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She frowns at the exposed skin. Someone has stuck wound-patches to her grazed knees with medical tape.
"Oh… hmm." She picks at the fabric of the hospital gown with her good arm and looks back up; "Say, you don't still have those clothes you got me do you? I'd rather not be wandering around the place looking like an escaped patient."
He pulls the bag out from under his chair and puts it down beside her. She smiles in thanks. Bruce directs her to the bathroom; a nurse joins them on the way.
She returns five minutes later in a loose shift dress; black with an electric blue stripe down the front. Her neck and left shoulder are heavily bandaged and he can see more white cloth peeping out from the armholes. The sling holds her arm firmly up against her chest.
She tugs nervously at the hem of her dress as she draws closer, "It's a bit short," she says disapprovingly with a small frown. Her feet scrape across the floor in the hospital supplied slippers. Her hair- washed and untangled now- is tied back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and it gives her face a severe, almost gaunt cast. She looks painfully thin; all skinny limbs and bird-like wrists.
"It looked long enough on the hanger." He says offhandedly. Hermione rolls her eyes; he takes the bag of remaining clothes off her, "Now come on; we have a stick to retrieve."
Bruce offers her his arm and she takes it with a soft smile. Tony leads them on, leaving Fury and Steve a message as he goes; Granger awake. Will wake Harry and tell us everything. Meet in his room in 10. He leaves out the part about returning her stick; he knows Fury wouldn't have approved. He trusts Steve to organise the team and meet them there.
Tony will be the first to admit that his lab isn't in the best of conditions right now. The benches (reserved for only the most vital of equipment) are mostly clean, for sure. The only problem is that they're clean at the expense of the floor, which is most definitely a disaster zone. Machinery, bits and bobs, the remains of computers and one or two uneaten trays of food litter the floor. There are more than a few dents and scratches in the metal walls.
He might have lost it a bit when they were operating on Hermione.
Bruce sighs heavily. Hermione's eyebrows rise.
"I like what you've done with the place." She says dryly, "Very Avant-garde."
Tony ignores her and grabs her stick and her stupid beaded bag. She takes them gratefully, sighing with what seems like relief when the stick rests in her hand. She tucks it beneath the straps of the sling and slings the little bag over her shoulder and they leave.
Tony leads the way again and his friend deems it appropriate to finally introduce himself.
"I'm Bruce," he tells Hermione, whose hand is once again tucked into the crook of his elbow (ever the gentleman, our Bruce).
"It's a pleasure to meet you Bruce," she smiles charmingly at him, "I'm Hermione; in case it wasn't glaringly obvious." He nods at her seriously.
"You know, there was a time there where I wasn't sure what your name was, so I'm glad we've worked that out." She laughs.
"So who are you Bruce? If you don't mind me asking."
"A scientist and a friend of Tony's," he states succinctly; always one to undersell himself.
"Doctor Banner is a valuable member of the Avengers," Tony interjects. Hermione's eyes light up with curiosity.
"Oh really? In what capacity?" Bruce's lips thin, still finding himself unwilling to speak casually about the Other Guy. Tony, fortunately, has no such qualms.
"As a giant green rage monster."
If anything, her eyes get even brighter, fascination clear on her face now.
"Really?" she breathes, and yes, that's definitely excitement he hears in her voice, "And how is that state brought on? Is it cyclical, like the moon? Or can it be brought out on will? Does it hurt? Or are you unaware of your actions during the episode- though I'd imagine not if you're a member of the Avengers. And how did this come about? Was it an infection? Were you born with it? Are you a mutant?" The questions pour out of her like a dam breaking its walls.
Bruce just stares, completely and utterly stunned. Tony laughs heartily.
"Oh Queenie," he snickers (and the woman is still yet to say anything about her nickname), "You are an absolute gem."
Hermione looks between the two, mildly confused, "What, are you- is it not-" understanding dawns on her face, "Oh," she sounds almost broken-hearted, "People are normally scared of you, aren't they?" and she looks so sad at that statement that Bruce lays his hand over hers, squeezing it in comfort.
"It's okay," he reassures her, "I'm used to it." Wrapped around her little finger already.
She shakes her head vehemently, looking angry now, "But you shouldn't have to be! You can obviously control yourself, or they wouldn't let you on this… this thing!" Bruce looks shiftily to the right.
"I can control it most of the time," he admits, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. Hermione shrugs her good shoulder.
"Well, most of the time is good enough for me." Bruce stares at her again and she raises an eyebrow, "What? I'm a big girl! I can take care of myself." And it's funny, because even though he knows about her shoulder and she's as skinny as a rake, Tony is still inclined to believe her.
Bruce looks like he's about to cry, he's so happy, when they arrive at Harry's room (which is not an exaggeration, Tony swears. Sure, he only looks shocked, but deep down he's deliriously happy; Tony knows these things). The door to his room is closed, and her hand stretches out to trace over the word 'Harry' that's been carved into the laminated paper.
Tony lets her open the door. It swings open slowly; Clint is inside already, on guard duty. One of the nameless grunts sits on the other side of the Falling Man's bed.
"Oh Harry," she murmur sadly, taking in the motionless form on the hospital bed.
There aren't as many machines in there as there a week ago; many of them were removed as his body healed, making them redundant, but he's still covered with bandages and bone casts.
"We had to place him in an induced coma." Bruce says quietly as she walks over to stroke the man's face, "We thought it would be safer; we didn't know if there were any adverse effects to be brought on by his accelerated healing."
"How bad was he?" Her hand runs down his neck, trailing down his arm. Fingers curl around his bandaged hand. Clint watches them silently, seemingly intimidated by Hermione after her episode of hysteria.
"Pretty bad," Tony says, grabbing his medical records from the foot of his bed- in some ways, SHIELD was still very old school. She takes the clipboard with shaky fingers. Her face becomes more and more drawn as she reads the list of injuries.
"Some of these he won't be able to heal himself," she mutters, "He can't cope with shattered bones," she looks up, "I'll have to heal him."
Tony raises an unimpressed eyebrow, "Riiight. Like you did yourself?" she scowls.
"No, not like myself. Dittany only heals the skin; what I'll have to do for goes much… deeper. I'll do it after, when you're not liable to freak out."
Steve and the rest of the gang (plus Doctor Foster) arrive then, Fury only moments behind. Tony sends the Director a jaunty little wave; he scowls back. Steve steps forward as the others squeeze into the room. Thor and Jane hover in the doorway, unwilling to crowd the room even more (though he suspects Thor's main motivation is keeping his lover out of harms way).
"We hadn't had the chance to be introduced before," he extends his hand and Hermione shakes it firmly, "I'm Steve. This," he nods to the pretty woman standing beside Thor, "Is Doctor Foster; she's one of the team that tracked your appearance, and this is the Director of SHIELD, Nick Fury," Hermione eye's his eye patch curiously, but bows at him dutifully without comment. Fury almost appears startled at her subservience.
"I understand that you would be the one I should thank for ensuring Harry's recovery?" her voice is formal and clipped now, dripping with gratitude, but she makes no move to shake his hand.
"Yes. Though I'd like to know why we're meeting here," he turns on Tony, "What was wrong with the conference room?" Hermione doesn't look offended in the least by her dismissal. Tony doesn't lie; he feels a little disappointed by that.
"That would be my fault, Director," she says calmly, drawing back his attention, "I insisted that I would provide SHIELD with no explanation unless it was with Harry in audience." She looks sheepishly back at Harry, "Though I admit, I hadn't been aware that his room had been so small… nor had I known the extent of his injuries. I think it would be best if we were to move to your conference room before I began my story; I feel it would be in Harry's best interests to be fully healed before he is revived, but that will take time and your approval of my involvement with his recovery."
Fury gives her what Tony can only call a look of approval. He's even more terrified of the woman now. Getting on Fury's good side is difficult; gaining his approval is harder, and those that do get it rarely receive it so quickly. He's starting to get the feeling she might well belong in the echelons of Agent Hill, Natasha and the late Agent Coulson, and he hasn't even seen her do anything yet. It's kind of weirding him out.
A glance at the rest of the team show's various levels of disconcertment at Hermione's behaviour. Or maybe he's just imagining it, because if he squints his eyes hard enough that might well be an approving smile tugging up the corners of Natasha's lips.
"I'd find that more agreeable, Miss Granger." She smiles politely.
'Thank-you Director," she pauses, glancing at the door, "I'm afraid I don't know where the conference room is however." Tony smirks, butting in before Fury can say anything else.
"No matter Queenie! The rest of us do- well, Steve doesn't, but I'd suggest you don't ask him where anything is on the Helicarrier; he struggles to find the mess hall half the time." He hears Steve sigh as he leads her out of Harry's room.
"I can hardly blame him- everything looks the same here." Steve laughs in delight, and maybe a bit of relief.
"Finally, someone who sees eye to eye." She shoots him a smile over her shoulder.
The rest of their journey is done in relative silence; Clint catching up with them after he'd found someone else to cover his babysitting duty. They file in one-by-one, Fury taking his customary seat at the head of the table; Hermione sits down next to him and Tony steals the one beside her before Bruce can.
Seven and a half pair of eyes round on her and she smiles, only slightly nervous.
"Well," she says, laying her beaded bag down on the table carefully, "I suppose I'd better start from the beginning."
Urk, So no big reveal I'm afraid. Chapter didn't lend itself to that, so everyone will have to wait til next week. An huge thank-you to everyone who left a review (you know who you are). Didn't really get a chance to reply to anyone this week unfortunately. I've been way too busy. But a huge thank-you nonetheless.