HEY GUYS. It's been a while. Or at least, it feels like a while after all those months of weekly updates. I'm sure you're all super excited for the new chapter now that I'm dragging out the updates- or at least, I hope you are, cause my ego needs some stroking… :P
Also; oh my gosh. I just reached 900 follows. Brain. Blown. I never expected this kind of reaction to GE. I love everyone.
Kudos to everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed. A special mention to 'Guest' who commented a few days ago and gave me a beautiful rant about how busy their life has been. I'm not entirely sure why, but your complaints totally made my week. Please, by all means guys, comment to me about how irritating your life is, because I don't know why but I find it kind of touching/amusing. It's weird, but it totally put a bemused smile on my face. Also, you made a valid note about Harry's temper being out of character for his age. I'm aware of this and it was what I'm aiming for later on anyway, so no need to worry about that; think of it more as his temper running a bit high because of the situation. Being abandoned in universe where you know no one will probably do that to you.
Anyway, read on my pretties!
Cinna
Part One: Great Expectations
Chapter Fifteen: Overcompensating Much?
"You have a tower." Harry remarks, stone-faced. He stares up, neck craning, at the several something floor monstrosity that is the Avengers-nee-Stark Tower.
Steve hums in acquiescence, mimicking Harry's pose. His eyes squint in the bright midday light that reflects off the endless stretch of glass, "Technically, Stark has a tower."
Harry shifts canny eyes back to him, shifting on his crutches (he'd lasted two days in the wheelchair until it met a most unfortunate end the night before. Hermione was still fuming), "It seems a bit unnecessary, don't you think? Like, overly ostentatious and all that?"
"Yeah," he replies slowly, scratching at the back of his head absentmindedly, "Tony has this thing about being as conspicuous as possible."
Harry and Hermione snort in amusement, "I can see that," he remarks dryly, "Overcompensating much?" Steve can hear Stark pouting at the wizard's assessment.
"You should see his suit," Bruce snickers, moving past them to walk into their ridiculous HQ. Tony sends a tragic look at the scientist's back.
"I mean, you may as well paint a target on your residential quarters." Harry muses; taking Bruce's lead and hobbling inside.
"Oh yeah that's right, forsake your landlord guys," Tony cries, sounding scandalised, "I could start charging you board, you know. Then where would you be?"
Steve rolls his eyes, offering Hermione his arm- she takes it with a mischievous grin, "You keep telling yourself that Tony," he quips, leaving the genius alone on the sidewalk with the idling car.
"He makes a good point you know," Hermione says quietly when the flashy automatic doors slide shut behind them.
"What?" he hears the vwish of the doors as Tony trails in. Harry and Bruce are waiting at their private elevator, stoically ignoring the curious looks of those waiting in the lobby.
"Well, why make it so obvious to the world where you live? Surely you're pretty active targets. Why make the job easier for your enemies?"
"Eh," Tony says intelligently, pushing past them to press his hand into the hand and finger scanner. The red light flashes green and the lift door opens, "Why bother? Those who would want to find us will find us anyway. It's easier to lure them out into the open, I figure."
The magic-users share an unimpressed look, "That seems like rather faulty reasoning," Hermione says slowly, frowning at the billionaire.
"What are you, my mom?" he frowns, thinking about that statement, "Actually, that would be more like my father."
Steve forcibly removes the image of Howard Stark from his mind. He still wasn't comfortably remembering the temporal distance between his then and his now. Hermione's glare at Stark says are you kidding me. Steve suspects she and her friend may suddenly be sharing doubts about agreeing to move in with them. He doesn't blame them- Tony is hardly selling the most convincing of arguments… or reassurances.
Tony pouts back, entirely untouched by their misgivings, "Jarvis," he says, turning to the console on the lift.
"A pleasure to have you back sir," comes the dry reply, slightly electronic and tinny, as Jarvis always is. Harry and Hermione look startled at the voice reverberating through the small compartment.
"Don't try and hold back your enthusiasm for me Honey, you know how I hate that so." Steve still finds it mildly disturbing- Tony's insistence on casually flirting with his AI.
"I'll try and remember that for next time sir," especially an AI that has the ability to sound exasperated. And slightly sassy. The elevator pings, the door opens, revealing the spacious open-plan living room that covers almost the entire floor. They step through, Hermione and Harry staring out at the glass-covered vista presented through the ceiling to floor windows with awe and delight. Harry rushes to the glass, all but pressing his face into the smooth surface to look out onto the mass of buildings. Steve suddenly recalls his acclaimed love of heights.
"Right," says Tony, untouched by the by-now commonplace view, "Well Daddy's brought home some visitors. They might be here for a while, so do you mind starting a tab for them?" he glances back at the pair, smirking slightly, "Don't want them eating and drinking me out of house and home."
A pause as the AI takes note of the coded message; keep an eye on them. The witch and wizard suspect nothing, apparently thoroughly unimpressed (and convinced) by Tony's arrogant orders, "Of course sir," Jarvis replies, likely already analysing the readings taken from them, "And where will Miss Granger and Mister Potter be staying?" the witch and wizard appear mildly startled to learn the man in the walls knows their names. Hermione starts looking for the source of the noise in the large room with her shrewd eyes.
Tony makes a beeline for their expansive kitchen, rummaging around his drinks cabinet before pulling out a bottle of whiskey triumphantly, "Oh I don't know… how's the twin room sound? It has bunk beds," he winks at them. They look horrified at the offer of bunk beds. Steve wonders if there's a story there.
"Uhhh-no, thank-you," Harry says not-so-graciously (kind of desperately), "Do you have anything else?" Tony frowns, sipping at his newly acquired tumbler of alcohol.
"Well what do you want?" the friend's look slightly uncomfortable.
"Do you have a conjoined room at all?" Hermione asks timidly, stressing at the hem of her dress with her able hand. Tony's eyes flick down to her bared legs and up again, so quickly Steve could almost say it didn't happen. The witch doesn't seem to notice, "Or just two rooms next to each other I guess."
Tony takes another sip, "You get that Jarvis?"
"The rooms on level 89 would be suitable sir," he nods, satisfied. It's only the level below Steve and Bruce's rooms- and Clint, when he was around (and Thor, if he'd actually been on Earth the last year and a bit). They'd be sharing the floor with Natasha.
"Get them ready then Jarvis," he leaves his empty glass on the kitchen bench, rubbing his hands together gleefully, "I think it's time for another tour."
He walks out of the kitchen area to lean against the huge sofa, "The TV room," he says, motioning behind him (Steve still doesn't understand why Tony calls it the TV room when it's not actually a room solely dedicated to TV. Open-planning confuses him). He leans over the edge to fish out the remote from behind one of the numerous cushions- the TV (which still blows his mind, even now) slides out of the wall and flickers on, "We've got cable, free-to-air and the internet on this baby, so you can watch literally anything," he turns it off and tosses the remote back down on the sofa. Steve rolls his eyes; they're forever losing the remote, precisely for that reason.
"The communal kitchen's over there-" he points to where he'd just been, "We have about a million different appliances for… stuff. I dunno; we normally just get take-out unless Bruce cooks. There's a kitchen on every floor too, for when you want something quickly."
He jumps up, striding over to part of the floor to ceiling glass wall that opens out into the balcony. He swipes a hand over the glass and they glide open with a soft hshhh.
The balcony outside is as huge as it always is (to compete with Tony's ego, Clint always says but Steve thinks it's more so to accommodate his botched landings). Harry laughs in delight and hobbles over to the edge; leans hard against the cool glass barrier. Steve's once again reminded of his love of heights, the messy head of black hair hanging as far as is safe to over the edge.
"I take it back. You're not overcompensating at all. This is totally necessary."
Tony smirks like fat cat with cream, "That's what I thought. Why hide in some dark dank place when you'll be found all the same? Go out with style I say."
Harry nods avidly; Hermione just smiles sardonically.
"Well you're not getting out there for at least a week." Harry sighs but doesn't argue. The comment confuses Steve until he remember the explanation two nights over dinner about broomsticks. Tony had cackled like a madman at the suggestion, almost close to tears in his mirth. Steve thought it was kind of a stupid way to travel, and incredibly uncomfortable but Harry had insisted that it was exhilarating.
Tony mimes a whipping motion. Steve doesn't get the reference and Harry doesn't see it. Hermione glares at the obnoxious genius.
"Over there," Tony acts as though he'd done nothing wrong, "Is the Jacuzzi- any self-respecting superhero HQ has a Jacuzzi. We generally don't bother eating out here- the wind gets pretty vicious, but feel free to do so if you entertain the insane urge. The stairs over the lead to the training ro- Oh Shit!"
Hermione jumps; startled at the exclamation, "What?"
"It's Mom!"
"Mum? What about your Mum?" Harry asks, completely confused.
"Not my Mom!" Tony insists, looking severely put out now, "SHIELD's Mom. You won't get a chance to meet him!"
Hermione and Harry stare. Their faces share identical quirked eyebrows.
"Him?" Harry prompts when Tony (currently pouting dejectedly out at the Manhattan cityscape) doesn't appear to want to extrapolate.
Tony pouts harder, if possible, "Gavin Salevini cares about as much for his rehab patients as a cuckoo cares for her freshly hatched offspring. Agents on leave after injury liked the name because of the irony."
Harry and Hermione continue to stare. Their twin looks are kind of unnerving.
"I wanted to watch your first session together." Tony defends himself, as if he was actually providing a convincing argument, "Now I have to find you one instead, and they'll probably be all cuddly and encouraging and sickeningly endearing."
Bruce hides his grin behind his hand.
"Yup," Hermione says, essentially ending the conversation. She turns to Steve, "So, he mentioned a training room?"
Steve leads the pair wordlessly up the outdoor staircase before Tony can add something stupid into the mix.
"Uh, Tony, do you have hidden cameras all through here?" Harry sounds on edge at the observation.
Tony shrugs, "Kind of, yeah. But you don't need to worry, Jarvis is very non-judgmental. And there's no camera's in the rooms or bathrooms, only microphones." Hermione blanches.
"Why?"
"Well Jarvis has to hear your requests somehow."
"Right, and who is Jarvis?"
Tony shrugs again, "My AI."
Hermione frowns, "I'm not familiar with that term." No one bothers to ask if Harry knows what it means.
"Artificial Intelligence. I made him; Jarvis takes care of everything here- well, everything security related anyway."
"You mean he's a computer? But he sounds so human!" Hermione is surprised and curious, but Harry looks almost horrified.
"You mean like in Terminator? Or iRobot?! But what if he turns against us and tries to eliminate the human race?" Tony rolls his eyes.
"Why is that always people's reactions?" Bruce seems happy to offer a reason why, but Tony sends him a glare before turning back to the magic users, "Jarvis wouldn't do that. He's very people friendly, aren't you Jarvis?"
"Yes Sir." Comes the mildly exasperated reply. And Steve is still wondering how Tony managed to get an artificial intelligence to come across as mildly impatient and beleaguered. As, it seems, does Hermione, who unlike her friend is not looking around the hallway warily.
"Hello Jarvis," she says, eyes directed up at the ceiling, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"As it is to meet you Miss Granger." and suddenly the AI is warm and friendly. She beams up at the ceiling.
"Thank-you for organising our rooms for us."
"No trouble at all Miss Granger." Jarvis sounds almost smug, mollified even.
Tony pouts, slightly put out.
"You never talk to me like that, Jarvis."
The AI wisely doesn't reply.
"Harry and I need to go to London."
Steve looks up from his dinner (curry… again, and he still hadn't gotten the hang of the spice and heat packed into the Goddamn vindaloo Tony always insisted on ordering); Hermione is staring at her untouched meal, twirling her still clean fork in her hand like a baton (or a wand, on second thought). Tony finishes chewing, slowly and carefully and just this side of obnoxious.
"Why?" she looks up, cautiously hopeful.
"I want to find the magical community there- if there's one at all. And this universe's Veil needs to be located."
"If it exists," Stark offers, slightly insensitively.
"If it exists," she confirms, mouth and brow set grim and doubtful. Tony shovels in another mouthful of curry (and how the hell does he do that?).
"Will that be a problem?" Harry asks, sharp green eyes flitting across his teammeates. They land on Steve and he glances at Bruce and Tony in turn, thinking on it (avoiding his gaze).
"That depends," he says finally, sneaking in a small mouthful of vindaloo as the pair digest his reply. He grimaces at the burning heat left behind.
"On what?" Hermione, razor sharp, slightly defensive.
"On whether or not the magical community is likely to let us keep our memories." Harry looks confused at his statement, but Hermione latches onto his line of thought instantly.
"We don't need an escort," she seems to be restraining herself from snapping, setting her fork carefully down on her bowl.
"I'm sure you don't Queenie," Stark replies, sending her a rakish smile, "But we will. And Papa Bear will kill us if we let you off into the woods alone." The witch rolls her eyes.
"And it could just be an excuse for the two of you to slip off our radar," Steve tries to put it delicately- he really does- but Harry's face hardens anyway.
"We don't break promises," he growls, and his tone is laced with a bitterness and grief that Steve can empathise completely with.
"And besides, why would we want to run away from free accommodation and food? It's hardly an undesirable relationship." Hermione jokes half-heartedly in an attempt to alleviate her friend's angst. Harry huffs a soft laugh, looking down at his meal to collect himself.
"Think of it this way," Tony drawls as he tears apart the remains of his naan bread, "We'll need the escort more that you. I for one will not say no to an introduction of an entirely unknown world. You're there more for our protection than we'd likely be for yours."
Hermione smiles with sheepish relief. Steve decides to say nothing about the fact they've not actually been offered such an introduction; nor the witch's serious reservations about the existence of a magical world in this universe.
"So when do you want to go? I can book a flight for whenever."
"Tomorrow, if possible," Hermione smirks wickedly, "But we were planning on taking a different mode of transport."
"Different how?" Steve asks cautiously, thinking of the broomsticks. The grins on Harry and Hermione's faces aren't exactly comforting; if anything, they're the exact opposite.
"International portkey." Hermione replies. The term means nothing to him.
"It's much faster than flying on a plane," Harry continues.
Steve gives the pair of them a good hard stare, "And at the risk of sounding ignorant, what's a portkey?"
"It's not that teleportation thing you mentioned you could do is it?" Tony sounds extremely hopeful; he looks almost heartbroken when they shake their heads.
"It's not possible to apparate large distances like that; the risk of splinching yourself is too high to justify it. And if the splinching doesn't kill you, the amount of energy you'd use up would.
"A portkey is an object that instantaneously transports you to another, fixed place. It's not quite like teleportation though," she adds quickly, to stop Tony from interrupting, "But it's very similar. A portkey will only take you one of two destinations; your point of origin or your intended destination." Steve really wishes he knew what Hermione was talking about most of the time. It feels almost like every time she opens her mouth it's to generate more questions to answer her answers. Tony and Bruce just nod like they understands what she's talking about, even though he's fairly sure she's never explained what the term 'splinching' means.
"How many people can it take at one time?" he asks- it was something she'd failed to specify.
She shrugs, "It depends on how many people can get a hold of the object."
"I was thinking it might be wise to take Agent Barton and Romanov. And Thor will probably want to come along too, I guess."
The witch nods, stirring about her meal, though the fork never reaches her mouth, "That will be fine." He sends her a smile.
"Thanks. What time should we leave?"
"London's seven hours ahead of us," Bruce inserts helpfully, "So we should plan it for a time that's still daylight over there."
"Eight should be okay," Harry says through a mouthful of food. Hermione wrinkles her nose and pushes her bowl away slightly.
Tony blanches, "Eight? In the morning?" Bruce rolls his eyes, clapping the genius on the back.
"Suck it up princess. Eight is fine."
"But Bruce! Eight in the morning! Is anyone even open then?"
"It beggars belief doesn't it?" he sounds about a sympathetic for Tony as Steve feels. Tony wolfs down another mouthful of vindaloo and doesn't reply.
"Right then,' Hermione says brightly (almost, almost fake sounding), pushing herself away from the table, "Eight it is. Be ready for then. I won't be waiting for people."
She sends Tony a stern look as she stands up and calls out a breezy "Goodnight" to them when she reaches the elevator. The doors open with a quiet ping and close silently behind her.
Harry watches the numbers on the elevator change with a stark expression on his face. Tony and Bruce just seemed surprised, and slightly confused (much the way Steve feels actually).
"What set her off?" Tony says bluntly.
"I don't know… Did any of you see her touch her food?" Harry replies quietly. His eyes are glued to the closed doors of the lift. Bruce shakes his head; Tony says nothing, his face suddenly shuttering off.
"She didn't seem to have much of an appetite on the Helicarrier either," Steve mused, "but I just figured she was like Tony."
Harry raises an eyebrow, eyeing off the resident billionaire speculatively, "Like Tony?"
He shrugs, "Intent on finishing things. Stuff like sleep or eating just get in the way of that sometimes."
Bruce smirks, "That's certainly one way of putting it."
Tony frowns, "Is this another 'gang-up-on-the-landlord' kind of thing?"
"No, this is a 'remark-upon-the-eccentricities-of-Tony' kind of thing."
"… I don't see how that's much of an improvement."
He shrugs, "It's probably not."
Tony sends the scientist a childish pout. Harry watches the banter with a faraway look on his face. Abruptly he stands, picking up Hermione's untouched meal as he does.
"I'll give this to her. She might get hungry soon. Thanks for the meal." He walks away with a smile. He seems to have forgotten all about his crutches and leaves them resting against the table.
"See you tomorrow!" Steve calls out to the retreating wizard. Harry sends him a grin from over his shoulder. The lift pings again. His lips twitch up in response.
"See you tomorrow." Harry echoes, inside the elevator. The doors close and now it's his turn to watch the numbers.
"Well I like them," Bruce says brightly, pushing away his empty bowl, "But not enough to trust them."
He and Tony nod, though the genius looks deep in thought about something, "No. I don't think we should trust them yet," he agrees.
"They're too invested in each other." Tony muses, staring out at the skyline behind Steve, "And skittish. You can see it in their eyes; they're waiting for us to give them reason to run."
"Not kill? They look like they could; she could have easily been lying about their story." Bruce sounds like he's almost sceptic of his own scepticism. He wants to believe he's wrong.
"Nah. She's got goody two-shoes all over her- the both of them do. If there's one thing Fury's good at, it's being an excellent judge of character. He never would have let them out if he's doubted them for a minute. He wants them for something I think; he was just waiting for an excuse to offload them onto us. You could see it in his eyes. He wants us to bond, or some shit like that."
"They're keeping something from us though." They can't deny that- there were parts of the story Hermione had told Harry that had differed from the one she'd given them. At least, the bits they could hear- there'd been more than a few times before Harry had clued into the camera that they'd spoken too quietly for the camera's microphone to pick up.
"I'd bet my shield it's got something to do with Harry's survival," he wouldn't of course, but it's the thought that counts. Stark rolls his eyes.
"Well obviously," he drawls and Steve stiffens on reflex, "I mean, the guy's like what, thirty three? Thirty four? And how old does he look?"
"Seventeen? Twenty maybe." Bruce hedges; he'd agree with that assessment. Harry doesn't look a day older than seventeen. Just a child.
"Exactly. And have you seen that scar on his forehead? There's no way it could be accidental- and it doesn't look like that mess on his arm- it's an old, old mark. There's something up with him."
"Hermione ages at a decelerated rate too," Bruce points out before Tony can get too far. He nods.
"Yeah, but even she appears to be about twenty-seven, twenty-eight. That's only a five or six year difference. Theoretically, Greenbean should be the same. Shit, they went to school together, they're the same age. Something has to have happened to him at some point, because I'm guessing that Greenbean is not normal. Not by wizard standards at any rate."
"And your point is? Whatever it is that's stopped him from aging doesn't seem to be a threat."
Tony looks away. Scratches a blunt fingernail into the table, "Isn't it? What did he have to do to stop the process? What kind of artefact did they find that had the power to stop aging? And- I'm guessing- the ability to prevent him from dying. You saw him when they found him- you read up on his injuries. He should have died. Only a miracle could have stopped him from doing so, and we all know miracles don't exist."
Steve thinks that's a very bleak way of looking at the world. It depresses him to realise that he agrees with Tony- in this new world where the miraculous can be explained, it's harder to keep to the faith of miracles.
"It might have just been a once only thing." Bruce says lowly, "The next time could be permanent."
"Maybe. And maybe not."
"It feels wrong for someone to be granted such abilities at apparently no cost." Steve offers to the conversation. Tony hums in agreement.
"Equivalent exchange."
"What?" It's a reflex reaction more than anything; Steve can more or less guess what Bruce means.
"Nothing comes without a price." The scientist says succinctly. Tony stares grimly out at the lights of Manhattan.
"Exactly. So I ask you; what was Harry's price? And what if it poses a threat? What are we to do with a man who cannot die?"
They fall silent as they think on the matter. Harry had come off as fairly innocent to Steve; certainly, so far all he'd seen in the man was a general 'goodness'- the same kind he'd seen in all the members of the Avengers team (even Tony… eventually). And granted, Harry and Hermione hadn't exactly come off as such at the moment- thrown into a brand new universe as they were- but Steve was sure that given the right motivations (more than just protecting their own) both Harry and Hermione would display the right amount of courage and selflessness that could make them valuable members of the Avengers team; it was a sentiment that he suspected Fury shared. Why else would he have allowed them to leave a secure SHIELD base?
They just needed to get the pair invested in this universe; provided their trip to London tomorrow was unfruitful.
No mean feat.
Hours later, in the dark quiet of his room, he lies awake plagued with the selfish hope that they find nothing of consequence tomorrow, and the heavy guilt that come with such desires.
He can't get to sleep for hours.
So, ending for this was totally meh. I'm aware. But a good one just plain out refused to appear, so that's what you get. I'm sure you can forgive me. *flutters eyelashes innocently*
On a side note, after doing a week's intensive creative writing course at Uni, I have discovered that I have pretty much buggered myself up for writing in past tense ever again. If you haven't noticed (and don't feel offended by that guys, I find that a lot of people take reading as a passive experience, and you end up completely ignoring the writing conventions that an author uses. It's happened to me on many an occasion), I write in present tense- it's been a new development over the last couple of years (I think it was based around me experimenting with writing styles and going for a slightly more poetic flair) and now pretty much everything story-based that I write automatically comes out in present tense. It drove my lecturer (and marker) up the wall, because he hates present tense writing (woe for me, I know). I just handed in a 2000 (2700 in reality) short story for him, deliberately in past tense. Most painful two days of my life. Ever. The ability to write in past tense has now left me… I hope I'm not made to do it again any time soon.
And on that note, I'm going. I'll see you all in a fortnight!